Tripping on Stepping Stones (Falling with Grace)
by K'sChoiceofAFI
Summary: 5 years apart, Quinn, at 15, had already known Rachel for a very integral part of her life. So falling in love with her just made sense. If only for Rachel it was that easy.
1. Act I

**Title: **Tripping on Stepping Stones (Falling with Grace)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **5 years apart, Quinn, at 15, had already known Rachel for a very integral part of her life. So falling in love with her just made sense. If only for Rachel it was that easy.

**A/N:** The age difference between Quinn and Rachel _is_ significant in the beginning, and if that understandably makes anyone uncomfortable, please don't read.

* * *

Rachel knocked unassumingly on the mahogany door to an expensive house on a side of town she had never even _visited_. Lima wasn't known for its social scene, but what she was rapidly discovering, as she turned around to once more survey the neighborhood full of two-story homes, was that Lima had an underbelly of socialites, the likes of which she never had the opportunity to rub shoulders with.

But how she wanted to.

The door swung open to reveal a sturdy man. He was of average height with a round belly and keen eyes. His hair was the color of a daffodil that had faded from too much sun. But there was nothing daffodil in nature about the man before her. Rachel swallowed at the sight of his imposing figure and clutched her school bag tighter. "Hello…Mr. Fabray."

At the greeting, he smiled, politely, uninvitingly. "Hello. My wife already handpicks all the charities I give out to a year, and we've already divvied up a fortune giving back. So I'm afraid I have nothing to give you—"

"No, umm—" Cheeks flushing scarlet in embarrassment, Rachel hung her head. "Actually, I'm—I'm here to tutor Francine. Rachel—Rachel Berry."

Russell Fabray at least had the decency to look ashamed as he scooted to one side of the doorway. "Oh, forgive me, child! Come right in!"

Nodding, Rachel slid around his belly and into the house. Russell closed the door behind him and ushered her along. "We get so many solicitors a week, I figure I may as well start beating them to the punch. Forgive me, dear."

Rachel attempted to follow along with his long, quick strides. "It's quite all right, Mr. Fabray."

"Excellent. Dear, your friend is here!" he called up a flight of stairs once they reached the living room. And if Rachel thought their house was massive on the outside…

The living room had an obscenely high ceiling with a long, flat screen TV plopped in the middle and an even longer burgundy couch along the wall. Sitting in the middle of the couch was a little girl with brilliant yellow hair that reminded Rachel of sunrises. She wore a yellow sundress and a pair of white patent leather shoes. They clicked against one another as the girl swung her feet, nose buried inside a book.

For the first time since her arrival, Rachel smiled.

Her attention was dragged to an exasperated sigh coming from the top of the stairs. "I'm coming, daddy!"

Rachel winced at the loud thumping of one Francine Fabray stomping down the hallway. She arrived at the staircase and slid her eyes over Russell then Rachel. "Oh, great, the bookworm's here."

From the living room, the little girl's head popped up. "Hmm?"

Frannie laughed cutely at her little sister. "Not you, Quinnie—for once."

The little girl's eyes slid from her sister to Rachel, and Rachel noticed about the exact same time that the little girl took a finger and pushed the frames higher on her face. She wore _glasses_. Rachel's smile grew impossibly wider. She was quite fond of children, and this particular one couldn't be any cuter if she tried. The little girl hopped up from the couch, and Rachel gave her full attention once it was obvious she was striding over to her.

It became clearer and clearer the closer the girl got that perhaps she wasn't as little as Rachel had thought. The girl came to rest in front of her and, embarrassingly, their height difference was hardly any different at all.

She had her father's eyes, was the first thing Rachel noticed. They were just as sharp and observant behind a pair of glasses black-rimmed. However, her eyes were much prettier, a light shade of hazel with olive undertones—a pair of eyes Rachel had seen nothing like before. It was unfair that a kid had eyes that striking.

She opened her mouth in greeting, but the girl beat her to the punch. "Who are you?"

Russell nearly choked on his own tongue. "Quinn Fabray. What have I told you about manners?"

But Rachel could only continue to look at her. She had never seen a child with such a serious disposition. Children were meant to be playing outside, yet this child—this _Quinn_—was inside, in a dress with her nose in a book. She was peculiar.

Rachel recovered from the shock with a clearing of her throat and an outstretched hand. "I'm Rachel Berry. And you are?"

Quinn glanced down at the hand being extended to her, and Rachel marveled at how distrustful she looked. "Quinn." Then Quinn took her hand.

Rachel shook it with a broad grin. "It's nice to meet you, Quinn. How old are you?"

At this, Quinn tensed and removed her hand. Her eyebrows knitted, and with pursed lips she muttered, "Ten."

Rachel tried not to smile at her dour expression. "Ten's a good year," she attempted.

Russell barked out a laugh and looked at the staircase to Frannie. "I like this gal."

"How old are you?" Quinn grumbled with the same sour expression on her face.

"I am fifteen."

"Lucky."

Rachel smiled. She reached out to playfully tug a long lock of blonde hair. "You'll get there."

Quinn flinched under the touch, and Rachel quickly retracted her hand with an alarmed expression. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm too affectionate for my own good."

Quinn said nothing as she continued to survey Rachel.

Frannie meandered down the staircase. "Ignore her. She's always been a grumpy child. Let's go."

Quinn frowned at her sister's back as Rachel followed Frannie toward the dining room. "I am not!"

The dining room had an old charm to it with a high ceiling and not just one, but _three_ beautiful chandeliers smartly hanging out of reach. The table was a beautiful mahogany masterpiece that stretched the length of the room, easily accommodating a family three times the size of the Fabrays.

Rachel ran her hand across the smooth wood as her eyes mapped the floral wall paper along the walls of the room. The elegance of this particular room spoke volumes about the family.

A very pointed clearing of the throat caught her attention, and Rachel turned to find Frannie sitting at the head of the table, watching Rachel unassumingly.

Rachel tugged self-consciously at her school bag. "Forgive me for staring. It's just…you have a lovely home."

Frannie waved it off. "Don't worry about it. And thanks." She glanced around the room. "For all the money my father puts into this place, I guess it should look good. Now—are you gonna help me pass this damn history test, or what?"

Rachel nodded as if just remembering she came here for an actual reason. "Government, right. Shall we begin?"

* * *

The next time Rachel saw Quinn was when she again came over to help Frannie study for another history exam. Quinn opened the door this time instead of her father. Dressed in a white dress with red and blue polka dots, she looked like the quintessential all American girl.

Rachel smiled in amusement. "Is it the fourth of July already?"

Quinn quirked two thin eyebrows up at Rachel. "Huh?"

"Nothing." Rachel's smile turned warm. "You certainly look adorable. I love your dress."

At that, Quinn frowned deeply, though Rachel noticed the tiny blush coating her cheeks. "I'm not adorable," was grumbled with barely contained petulance.

Rachel filed that little fact away. Quinn didn't like to be called adorable. Self-esteem was a very fragile aspect of oneself, Rachel knew. After all, high school wasn't exactly the kindest to her at this moment in her life.

"Hey." When Quinn looked up at her, Rachel smiled. "Forgive me? I, in no way, meant ill will toward you by my comment. A-actually it was supposed to be a _compliment_, but if you don't like to be called adorable, I certainly won't do it again."

Quinn's hand remained firmly grasped around the door as if at any moment she was going to slam it. Her lips balled, creating tiny wrinkles around her mouth. Then she popped them loose and shrugged. "Okay." She stepped aside. "Come in already."

"Impeccable manners," Rachel muttered to herself as she stepped into the house.

They walked side by side through the house, bypassing the kitchen when Quinn asked, "Are you smarter than my sister?"

_Yes_ almost left her mouth, but Rachel had just enough time to catch herself. "It's not that simple," she promised, despite the glaringly obvious. Even with tutoring, Frannie still situated herself just behind Rachel for every test, for reasons Rachel was pretty sure she could guess.

"Yes, it is," Quinn countered flatly. She came to an abrupt stop in the dining room, and Rachel followed suit. "You're tutoring her."

"Yes…" she conceded. The feeling she was walking into a trap crept upon her suddenly.

"Then you know something she doesn't. Therefore, you're smarter," Quinn concluded.

Quinn saw things in black and white, as most children did, Rachel noted. Still, she was amused, if a little flattered. She made a show of miming zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

Quinn giggled, an entirely giddy sound that Rachel found endearing.

Silence elapsed between them, and when Rachel was certain Quinn had no more questions, she began to walk toward the hallway leading to the living room and staircase. "Pardon me, Quinn. But I must go help your sister now."

"Hey—"

Rachel paused in her steps and turned to find Quinn looking positively flustered. She was fidgeting with her fingers as she slowly advanced on Rachel. "Yes, Quinn?"

"Umm…" For the first time, Rachel saw Quinn falter. She had so much bravado and confidence for a little girl, that this waver in her usually strong characteristics felt so misplaced. But it would be the first of many times Quinn's confidence would falter in the face of Rachel. "Do you know how to do long division?"

Call it an ego boost, but Rachel wasn't blind to the hero worship that was beginning to form. After all, children tended to take a liking to her. Her fathers joked it was because she was closer to children in height than the general adolescent and adult population, but Rachel preferred to think it was because children could tell that she was special, even if popular girls like, well, _Quinn's sister_, could not. Out of the mouths of babes, after all…

Still… "Oh, Quinn…honey…" Rachel lamented.

"What?"

"It's been a _really_ long time since I've learned that. It's been maybe—"

"Five years?"

Rachel chuckled a bit. "Yes, I suppose five years is accurate, huh?"

"Q, is Rachel here yet, or what?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and began to walk away. "I'll see you around."

Rachel turned to watch Quinn scamper off downstairs at the same time Frannie descended to greet her. Bemusement furrowing her brow, Frannie glanced downstairs to where Quinn was sitting beside Russell and Judy on the couch then back to Rachel. "Did she—"

"It's fine," Rachel insisted with a wave of her hand. "She's quite charming, actually."

Frannie laughed and grabbed a seat at the dining room table. "My sister is a lot of things—weird, too quiet for her own good, a nerd. But charming isn't one of those things."

Rachel hadn't grown up with a sister, or a sibling at all for that matter, and didn't understand the often tumultuous relationship one could have with someone who shared their own blood. Frannie and Quinn's relationship confused her to no end, but it was something she felt she should leave alone.

Instead, she reached into her school bag for her books to begin tutoring Frannie.

* * *

Rachel was a star in the making, which was exciting in its own right. But like most budding stars with career driven tunnel vision…she was unpopular.

And as much as she hated to admit it, it got to her.

She clutched her books close to her chest and flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder to appear confident as she walked down the hallway. She wasn't blind or deaf. She saw the way students glared at her mockingly, and whispered cruel things behind her back. Or worse yet, had the nerve to say them to her face.

Toward the end of the hallway came Frannie Fabray, strutting with two Cheerios flanking her. Rachel shuffled aside and leaned against the hallway with a wistful sigh. She would have given anything to be as cool as Frannie. It astounded her that just a few days ago Rachel was in the Fabray house, tutoring Frannie. They had shared laughs in between the awkward silences—she had been in Frannie's _house_, which was probably more than the two Cheerios beside her could say. Yet as Frannie walked past Rachel without a flicker of recognition, Rachel may as well have been a fly on the wall.

Aside from bigotry, and the fact that her fathers couldn't legally marry, high school politics were among the subjects that infuriated Rachel most. Still, she had three more years left, and had to settle in for the long haul. So she closed her eyes, and squared her shoulders as she tried her best to tap into the in control, aloof Broadway star she would be one day. Opening her eyes, Rachel strutted forward.

And got a slushie thrown in her face.

* * *

"Hey."

The school day had ended, and Rachel closed her locker and was heading toward the exit when she saw Frannie Fabray standing directly in front of her. Clutching her books tighter in distrust, Rachel's eyes narrowed in hurt and suspicion. "Oh, so you know me now?"

Frannie sighed. "Look, Rachel, don't make this a thing."

"Let me guess," Rachel continued. "You need me to tutor you again because you have another test."

Frannie rubbed at the back of her neck. "They keep sneaking up on me," she admitted.

"The tests are bi-weekly," Rachel retorted. "And listed on the syllabus."

"All of which are beside the point." Frannie sighed, stepping closer. "Look…please?"

She looked like an older version of Quinn, especially so when she pouted, which may have swayed Rachel's decision just a tad. What really swayed her decision, however, was Frannie's popularity and the power that lay behind it. "I'll tutor you," Rachel allowed.

Frannie grinned. "Awesome."

"If, and only if, you keep those pig-headed Neanderthals from throwing slushies at me."

She frowned at the request. "I can't—"

"We both know it's well within your power to do this, Frannie."

Growling, Frannie muttered the word fine, then stomped away. "Tonight!" she tossed over her shoulder.

* * *

With the hit taken off Rachel, and thus the social pressure looming over them, Rachel and Frannie were able to foster a bit of a friendship over the school year. They didn't talk much in the hallways, but whereas before Frannie wouldn't even look in Rachel's direction, now she would smile and wave when they passed each other in the hallways.

And Rachel visited the Fabray house more often for reasons other than helping Frannie study for exams. They hung out and watched movies, went to the mall, and were, generally, friends.

Hanging out at the Fabray house, Rachel had to admit, was one of her favorites. She had been a very outgoing child, so growing up without siblings had been an overall lonely experience. At the Fabrays, Rachel felt like she had sisters in Frannie and Quinn. Quinn was the moody younger sister who was growing to like Rachel despite herself and Rachel got to shower her with endless affection. And Frannie, though they were the same age, had always seemed older, more sophisticated, and Rachel was more than happy to learn how to be cooler from her.

"Stop it, Francine!"

Frannie snickered and threw another popcorn kernel at Quinn.

The only difficult moments came when the sisters were fighting, because both wanted Rachel to take their side.

"Rachel, tell her to stop!" Quinn whined.

"Pay your dues, scrub," Frannie laughed.

Despite how lighthearted the situation was, Rachel couldn't help the way her heart broke for Quinn in those moments. A victim of bullying herself sometimes at the expense of the very same girl, Rachel knew how Quinn must have felt in those moments.

"May I have the popcorn, please?" Rachel asked in a saccharine voice.

Frannie huffed in displeasure but handed the bowl of popcorn to Rachel. "You're only doing this to spare her." Frannie folded her arms across her chest.

"Not so. I simply enjoy the buttery goodness." Rachel glanced at Quinn from the corner of her eye and winked.

Quinn grinned.

Sitting in her husband's lazy chair across the room, Judy smiled at the scene that had unfolded.

Once the movie was over, Rachel bid farewell to the three Fabray women and began walking out of the living room.

Judy stood to follow behind her. "I'll walk you out."

The walked to the door in silence, and Rachel spun around to thank Judy for allowing her over as she always did.

"Oh, it's no problem, dear. You're a delight." Judy smiled. "I was actually wondering—summer is coming up, and Quinn won't have school. Frannie is going to be at cheer camp, and Quinn is too young to stay home alone while Russell is at work and I run errands. I was wondering if you'd like to babysit. We'd pay you, of course."

Rachel's eyes glistened with delight. "I'd _love_ to! Quinn is such a great kid," she gushed. "I'll absolutely babysit."

Several feet away, leaning against the doorway of the living room, Quinn smiled.

* * *

The summer was hot enough to drive even Quinn Fabray out of the house. Her parents had left money for her and even Rachel to do what they wanted, and Quinn wanted nothing more than to go ice skating.

"Have you ever been before?"

Quinn vehemently shook her head.

Rachel giggled. She couldn't yet drive legally, and relied on her father working his schedule around her and Quinn to drive them to the skating rink. LeRoy was a dentist who still donned his white coat, winding through the streets of Lima in between appointments while his daughter talked to Quinn in between belting notes on Lima's musical radio station.

"Well, you know, Quinn, I hear the trick is to use the buckets," LeRoy interrupted the pair with a teasing grin.

In the back seat, Quinn's head tilted. "Buckets?"

Rachel nodded at the sage advice. "At skating rinks, they have buckets that you can skate around with to assist with balance."

Quinn's face crinkled at the description. "Sounds like that's for babies."

Rachel rolled her eyes. Nothing made Quinn feel more insecure than her age. And with Rachel being five years older, and LeRoy practically four times her age, Quinn felt like a baby, relegated to the backseat for safety.

Rachel turned in her seat to lock eyes with Quinn. "Don't worry," she coaxed. "If you don't want to use the bucket then you can hold my hand instead. That way if you fall, we fall together."

Quinn's heart thudded in her chest at the promise that lay behind Rachel's words. A promise that made her feel safe and looked after for probably the first time in her young life. She turned toward the window to conceal her lips quivering in threat of a smile.

As it turned out, Quinn was a natural on the ice. Within the first hour, she had separated from Rachel, her arms windmilling as she skated around the rink. Rachel followed behind her, only slightly more coordinated. She was able to skate with her hands behind her back, which she considered an accomplishment in its own right.

"How do you like it?"

Quinn looked over at Rachel who had settled at her side. Losing balance, Quinn lurched forward, threatening to teeter over when Rachel grabbed her hand. The pair wobbled as Rachel attempted to save them, then fell on the ice.

Quinn laughed, an angelic sound that warmed Rachel's heart as she stood up, and reached down to help Quinn. Quinn dusted ice off the jeans Rachel made her wear. She didn't own many pairs, but these were her favorite because of the bedazzled pockets. And as an avid fan of all things bedazzled, Rachel liked them as well, had even picked them out. "It's great!" Quinn informed her. "Besides all the falling."

Amused, Rachel agreed. "Yes, well, I've yet to meet anyone who likes falling."

Quinn giggled. "You're funny. And weird."

Rachel sighed at the compliment, but forced a smile. Even a ten year old child could tell she was weird, which didn't bode well for her self-esteem.

But perhaps Quinn, too, was a little weird. She had a knack for reading people well beyond her age. And the second Rachel's mood shifted, Quinn could tell. "I like you," she felt the need to add.

When Rachel looked at her, Quinn sped away. Rachel watched after her in alarm. "Quinn, honey, no!"

* * *

Quinn sat at the dining room table with a sullen expression on her face while her parents spoke with Rachel in the kitchen. It had already been decided by Rachel once they got home, that she would take the blame for Quinn's broken glasses. But Quinn still felt guilty. _She_ was the one who sped off and fell,_ she_ was the one who decided she was too grown up to use the buckets, _she_ was the sole reason her glasses were broken.

And now her parents were likely in the kitchen with mean expressions on their faces, whisper-yelling at Rachel about how expensive the glasses were and how irresponsible she had been to allow Quinn to break them. And if Rachel were to get _fired_…

A lone tear trekked down Quinn's face. She didn't want Rachel to get fired. Rachel was kind of the best person ever. She was nice and well-mannered, and used words like magnanimous that exponentially expanded Quinn's vocabulary. She sniffled and wiped a tear, glaring holes through the table.

It wasn't fair. Rachel was the best friend Quinn had ever had. And she had managed to get Quinn out of the house for once. Their summer together had only just begun, and if Quinn had to spend the rest of the summer blind, running into objects, and falling down the stairs, it would be worth it to have Rachel as her babysitter.

"Hey there, kiddo."

Quinn looked up. Through blurry eyes, she saw a smiling face framed by dark hair. "Rachel!" Before she could think better of it, Quinn was out of her chair with her arms wrapped around a thin waist and her face buried in Rachel's neck.

Puzzled, but never one to turn down a hug, Rachel wrapped Quinn up in her arms and gave a small squeeze. "Is everything all right?"

Quinn pulled back, avoiding eye contact as she wiped her eyes. "What did they say?" Woefully, she met Rachel's eyes once again. "Were they mean?"

"_They_ told her that it was completely understandable. And we'd get you another pair this weekend."

Glancing over Rachel's shoulder, Quinn squinted to find her parents in the doorway adjoining the kitchen and dining room. "So Rachel can stay?"

"You thought I had been fired?" Rachel asked with an incredulous tone. "Oh, sweetheart." She hugged Quinn once more. "We have the whole summer together!"

Quinn's throat bobbed with a tight swallow as more tears sprang to her eyes. She willed them away, and hugged Rachel tighter.

* * *

Rachel found she wasn't ready for the next school year. Her summer had been _fun_. Sure, she often missed the company of Frannie, someone her age, but she had spent the summer learning that Quinn was wise beyond her age. And like a sponge, she soaked up whatever knowledge Rachel imparted on her. It made Rachel feel important to someone other than her fathers. And sure it may have been pathetic given the fact that Quinn was only eleven, but Rachel didn't care.

She especially didn't care on the first day of school when she was once again reduced to the bottom of the social pyramid, much preferring Quinn's company to that of her peers.

But a shining moment of potential caught her eye despite her contempt for high school. There, tacked to a bulletin board in the hallway, was a sign-up sheet for a glee club at McKinley High. Rachel smiled impossibly wide. A glee club was just the kind of thing she needed to anchor her to school and keep her from writing in her memoirs one day that like many successful actresses, school just wasn't for her. She grabbed the pencil attached to the sign-up sheet and signed her name, placing a small golden star beside it.

She turned, and immediately felt the ice cold sting of slushie against her face.

"Hey!"

Rachel's mouth opened in a gasp at the sound of Frannie's voice.

"What the hell are you doing?" Frannie didn't give the bumbling, oversized football player a chance to reply. "Get out of here!"

Wiping slush from her eye, Rachel peered up at Frannie now standing before her. Trepidation raced down her spine at the sight of her. Then Frannie smiled and grabbed Rachel's arm. "Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

Glee was amazing.

And it always left Rachel feeling, well, _gleeful_. Sure, there were challenges that came with being the most talented and, subsequently, glee club captain. But it was a challenge Rachel was willing to face. Besides, glee afforded her other school friends besides Frannie, such as Kurt Hummel, and Mercedes Jones.

She found her schedule opening up, and she divided her time between Kurt and Mercedes and Frannie and Quinn as best as she could.

Midway through sophomore year, Rachel had even caught the attention of the most popular boy in school, quarterback Finn Hudson. He was a giant, towering over her by a full foot, with a heart of gold. He had joined glee club months ago for reasons Rachel was a little fuzzy on, but that didn't matter. What mattered to her, very much so, was his star quality. He was leading man potential, and most importantly, didn't try to out shine her. He was more than happy to co-captain the glee club with her with the understanding that she was still the one in charge.

After encouragement from Frannie who insisted she wanted nothing to do with Finn, he and Rachel began dating.

It was around this time that Rachel had begun to notice a change in Quinn. They had grown closer over the year until she started dating Finn. Then Quinn began to withdraw. Rachel began to see her moody side, a side Quinn had normally reserved for Frannie.

Rachel knocked on Quinn's door lightly. "May I come in?"

She heard a barely there, muffled voice gruffly reply, "Yeah."

She walked in to find Quinn lying on her bed with a book in her hand. She had a new pair of glasses now that framed her face cutely, and Rachel smiled when Quinn glanced over at her. "What are you reading?"

Quinn returned to her book. "_Lord of the Flies_."

Rachel approached the bed and sat beside Quinn. "Isn't that book a little too advanced for you?"

"_I'm_ advanced, Rachel," Quinn drawled for the hundredth time. A blessing and a curse. Being smart didn't afford her many friends, but her parents assured her that if she kept it up, a very prestigious college would be looking her way one day.

"Quinn, I was wondering if we could talk."

Quinn sighed audibly. She placed her bookmark between the pages she was reading and closed her book. "What is it?" she asked as she sat up.

Rachel bit her lip, wondering if she should broach the topic at all. Maybe she was reading into things, and this was all just a coinci—

"Why are you dating Finn?"

The question was asked so forthright with a hint of sadness that Rachel felt a pang in her chest. "Oh, sweetheart," she lamented. She scooted closer to Quinn as she searched for an answer. "Finn is a very nice boy," she attempted to assure. "And he-he likes me."

"I like you," Quinn answered reflexively, meeting Rachel's eyes. She shrugged. "Probably more than he does."

Rachel swallowed. This was…unfamiliar territory for Quinn. Having spent a year and a half seeing the fairer sex in various states of undress, Rachel was sure she was somewhere in the middle on the Kinsey Scale. Quinn, however, had never expressed interest in boys…or anyone.

She was just a child.

So when she looked Rachel dead in the eye and professed her like, Rachel forced a smile because the implications of liking someone at sixteen were vastly different than the implications of liking someone at eleven.

Comforted by the thought that Quinn was simply expressing friendly fondness for her and not some romantic love that she was entirely too young for, Rachel surged forward and wrapped Quinn in her arms. "And I like you, too, Quinn. I do. You're extremely special to me, okay?"

She pulled away and affectionately ran her fingers through Quinn's long hair while Quinn nodded.

"I don't want you to ever think that Finn could come between us, because he can't. No one can."

Quinn dropped her gaze. She was growing like a weed with gangly legs hanging off the bed, and her socked foot dug into the carpet of her floors. "Promise?"

Rachel gingerly grasped her chin and made Quinn look at her. "I promise, sweetheart. You'll always be like a little sister to me, okay?"

At that, Quinn grinned. "Okay."

* * *

Rachel and Finn lasted on an off for her high school career, but that was it. In fact, they ended around the same time Rachel's dreams did. Ever since she was six years old, Rachel had dreamed of attending the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts where they groomed stunning young ingénues such as herself. Be that as it may, NYADA was more expensive than her parents could afford in their wildest dreams, and Rachel truly didn't have the heart to pull the spoiled brat card and leave them in mounds of debt.

Having been confident in her attendance at NYADA, Rachel had only applied to one more school. And when fall rolled around, she would be attending Ohio State with Frannie.

"What's Finn doing?" Frannie asked.

The pair were in the backyard of the Fabray house, on the new porch swing Russell had gotten installed. It was a warm June evening, a full month after Quinn's thirteenth birthday. It still blew Rachel's mind that Quinn was now a teenager.

She sighed at the question that pulled her out of her thoughts. "He is now in the military, and will be stationed…who knows where." Her voice was uncharacteristically bitter, and Frannie turned toward her.

"Who broke up with who?"

"I did," was all Rachel said.

"Why?"

"Because I—I already feel stuck, staying in Ohio for the next four years, New York being so far away. And being with Finn felt like…a constant reminder that all of my work in high school was for nothing, that every good grade, and every glee club competition won was all for naught. That I'll likely end up a choir instructor like Mr. Schue."

"And that's so bad?"

"I had bigger plans for myself."

Frannie fidgeted in discomfort. She had never seen Rachel so morose. "So I was thinking…" she started, hoping to change the subject. "Since we're both going to State, and we're already friends…wanna be roommates?"

For the first time all evening, Rachel cracked a smile. "I think I'd like that."

* * *

"Mom, dad, I want contacts."

The summer before her freshman year of high school saw a very new Quinn. She had grown to about five-foot-six, put away her glasses for a pair of clear contacts, and had a very different frame of mind than just four years ago.

Popularity was the name of the game now. She was Frannie's successor and thus had to fill her shoes. If anyone was going to be captain of the Cheerios, it was going to be Quinn.

She strutted into school on the very first day in a flowy summer dress, hands on her hips. Being the recluse bookworm got her nowhere from elementary through middle school. It was time to reinvent her image, and she was going to do just that.

* * *

She didn't bother visiting Frannie and Rachel until she had the Cheerio uniform to prove to Frannie that she was following in her footsteps. Now, donned in her red, white, and black uniform, Quinn stepped out of her car with sneakered feet to find Rachel practically skipping toward her.

Quinn took in the sight of her with bulging eyes.

She had never seen Rachel wear anything other than skirts and dresses, so the pair of brown, neatly pressed shorts adorning her lower half threw Quinn for a loop. Her legs had always been long, but as she strutted over in a pair of heels Quinn had never seen before, they looked far more toned than they ever had.

"Hi, Quinn!" Rachel greeted with a small wave, dashing the rest of the distance to come to a full stop in front of Quinn. She leaned down to wave at Russell in the driver's seat. "Hi, Mr. Fabray!"

Russell waved with a friendly smile. "Hi, dear!" He opened the car door and stepped out to give Rachel a hug. "Where's Frannie?"

"She's in class. If you'd like to stay, she should be out within the hour."

Russell waved his hand. "Oh, that won't be necessary. Tell her I said hello!"

"I absolutely will!"

"I'll see you on Sunday, Quinn."

"Yeah, bye, dad," Quinn replied, distracted. She couldn't take her eyes off Rachel. In her heels they were nearly the same height, and Quinn took in the smoky eyes before her in wonder. "I—wow, you…" Quinn felt the back of her neck grow hot as she continued to scrutinize Rachel from head to toe. "A lot's changed," she finally settled on.

Rachel smiled, dazzlingly, with a hint of rouge on her mouth that caught Quinn's eye. Then, bashfully, she lowered her head, assessing what she was wearing. "Is it too much?"

"No-no," Quinn assured a little too quickly. When Rachel looked back up at her, she smiled. "Just different. But—you look great."

"Yeah?"

It was said with such shyness, that Quinn was instantly able to recognize the woman before her again. Externally, Rachel seemed to have transitioned from cute kid to adult, but internally she still seemed to be the same girl Quinn had met at age ten, and grown to like.

"Yeah," Quinn assured. "Like, really pretty."

Rachel squealed and lunged forward to wrap her arms around Quinn's neck. "Coming from the prettiest girl I know, that means a lot." She pulled back with a playful wink then linked her arm with Quinn's. "Come on! I'll show you around."

They toured the campus for about an hour then made their way back to the dorm both Rachel and Frannie cohabited. Quinn took in the sight of the dorm with wide eyes. She instantly dropped her overnight bag to walk about the apartment. "Wow, this is amazing. You guys get to live here? Like, seriously?"

Rachel smiled at Quinn's awe. She took a seat on the couch in the common space as Quinn bypassed the small kitchen toward the two bedrooms. "Yes, it's pretty impressive, huh? I think your father may have something to do with this."

Quinn huffed out a laugh as she walked back through the apartment to join Rachel in the common space. "He probably did. I hope I get something this nice when I go to college."

At that, Rachel's smile faltered. Quinn was probably going to an Ivy League school given her grades and her father's affluence. She was going to soar far beyond Lima, Ohio, far beyond Rachel. "I'm sure he will," was all she said.

Oblivious, Quinn walked toward the couch and plopped down beside Rachel. She surveyed her face once more with wonder and intrigue. "So, the make-up…"

Rachel laughed and self-consciously tugged at her hair. "You hate it."

Quinn shook her head. "No, it looks great." Her head tilted. "Really great, actually. It suits you. I just didn't think you'd ever go for the dark, smoky look."

Rachel looked away, staring down at her fidgeting hands. "I wanted to try something new," she mumbled.

Sensing Rachel's growing discomfort, Quinn scooted closer. She reached out to clasp Rachel's hand before she thought better of it. Quinn wasn't one for physical affection by any stretch of the imagination, but if it was one thing she had learned over the past four years, it was that Rachel was. And every once in a while, she could put away her own hang-ups regarding physical affection to comfort her friend. "What's wrong?" she asked lowly. "Are people here bullying you, too?"

There was a hint of a threat in Quinn's voice that was entirely new to Rachel. She looked up at Quinn to find determined hazel eyes boring into her own. She had never seen this Quinn, fierce and in control. And it startled her as much as it intrigued her. "No, no, it's not that," she assured with a hint of a smile. "I just—I have a dance instructor who's just…" Rachel laughed humorlessly, "kind of a bitch. And she's really about promoting an image, so—"

"But this isn't you," Quinn pointed out.

"But I _like_ this," Rachel insisted, imploring Quinn to understand. "I feel…pretty for the first time in my life, Quinn. And-and boys look at me now. I mean, I—_Rachel Berry_—turn heads on the way to class. I never thought it'd be like this."

Quinn's eyes narrowed as she looked away. As a kid she had picked up on little cues regarding Rachel's insecurities, but she had never imagined it had been that bad. Listening to her talk now just kind of broke her heart. She bit the corner of her lip. "Are you sure you like it?"

Rachel beamed at her. "It's just make-up, Quinn." She reached up to run her thumb across the blush on Quinn's cheekbone. "You wear make-up."

Quinn's jaw clenched at the feather light touch. "But I have to for the Cheerios," she defended.

"And I have to for dance."

Quinn sighed. "I just—" Her gaze dropped to their clasped hands, and her grip around Rachel's tightened. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to change. For anyone. Because I—I like you for who you are, Rachel."

Rachel looked positively touched. "Oh, sweetheart." She grasped Quinn's hand tighter, and scooted that much closer. "Thank you, really. It's nice to always know that no matter how tattered I look, at least the prettiest girl in the world will still like me."

Quinn groaned in embarrassment and pulled away all together. "Where did the prettiest girl thing come from?"

Rachel chuckled. "It's true! Frannie's been showing pictures of how you've matured, and you're truly growing into a beautiful young woman, Quinn. I mean that."

"Thanks," Quinn grumbled, cheeks tinged red.

Rachel hiked her legs onto the couch and tucked them under her to face Quinn. "Now, tell me about this," she said, gesturing toward Quinn's uniform.

Quinn glanced down at her Cheerios uniform with a little shrug. "I made the team."

Rachel grinned. "So I've noticed. How do you like it?"

"It's great. I like the structure, the drive everyone has. Sue is absolutely crazy, though."

"I can't imagine how you do it."

Quinn smiled smugly. "It's a Fabray thing."

Rachel giggled at the sight. "Oh, please! So I assume you're going for captain?"

Quinn nodded. "Absolutely. I plan on proving myself this year, and going the extra mile at cheer camp this summer. And if everything works out, I'll have Frannie's former position."

Rachel shook her head in awe. "You Fabrays are something else." She continued to gaze at Quinn, then her eyes widened as if something had just clicked. "Where are your glasses?"

Shyly, Quinn looked away. "Uh, I got rid of them actually," she answered. "I figured if I was gonna cheer, I couldn't do so with them. So I asked my parents for contacts."

It wasn't a _complete_ lie. Quinn doubted her glasses could survive her being tossed into the air multiple times. At some point they would have slipped off, and contacts were just the more practical decision.

But that wasn't the sole reason why she had chosen contacts. And after giving Rachel a firm speech about being who she is, Quinn felt like a giant hypocrite. "So, umm, how's college?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Rachel settled more into the couch. "Freeing," she sighed. "Something about being out here on my own agrees with me. But still…" Her lips pursed in thought.

"Still?"

A shrug. "I just thought I'd be in New York right now, that's all. And a large piece of me is out there somewhere, on a stage. I'm just kind of going through the motions here."

Quinn forced an encouraging smile. "You can still get to the stage, Rachel. This is just like, a detour."

"I hope so."

They heard a key in the door, and both Rachel and Quinn turned to find Frannie walking through the door. At the sight of her little sister, Frannie dropped all her books and sprinted across the common space. "Baby sister!"

The pair, who looked more like twins by the day now that Quinn was taller, hugged in the middle of the room, and Rachel couldn't help but smile. They had given each other such a hard time when they were younger, but when Frannie moved out to attend college, it all seemed to change within a blink of an eye. They didn't talk often. Rachel couldn't imagine many Fabrays did. But they were the closest pair of siblings Rachel had ever seen.

"Look at you!" Frannie gushed. She wiggled her finger around in a circle, and Quinn rolled her eyes as she gave a twirl. "Wow." Frannie's eyes sparkled as she gazed at Quinn. "I can't believe you actually did it."

Quinn grimaced. "I said I would."

"Oh, no, I know. It's just—you were _such_ a bookworm that I doubted you'd ever go outside long enough to learn a cheer."

Quinn folded her arms across her chest. "Yeah, well, things _change_, you know."

Bemused, Rachel glanced between the two of them as they began to bicker. Or so she had _thought_ things had changed.

Quinn spent the entire weekend with Frannie and Rachel, mostly Rachel since Frannie seemed to have an exceptional social life. They spent hours on the couch in the common space watching Netflix movies, and the pilots of random shows, some Rachel would continue to watch after Quinn was gone, and some that both simply hated. Rachel would rest her head on Quinn's shoulder and Quinn would fidget quietly until Rachel would have to ask if she were all right.

* * *

It wasn't until her sophomore year of high school when Quinn realized that her feelings for Rachel fell into the more than friendly category. It was around the same time she became captain of the Cheerios and, subsequently, the most popular girl in school. With the pressure to fit in as well as very Christian ideals from her parents and the chastity ball looming over her head, Quinn felt the best she could do was put her feelings to the side. Besides, Rachel was away at Ohio State. They texted nearly every day, but hardly saw each other. It would be easy, keeping her feelings a secret.

In a weird way it made sense. Rachel was the nicest person Quinn had ever met, and Quinn had always been fond of her. And when she thought of anyone she wouldn't mind spending a significant chunk of her time with, Rachel was the only person that came to mind.

And then out of nowhere Rachel had just gotten so…_hot_. Granted, she had always been pretty in Quinn's eyes, but something about growing up and going to college agreed with Rachel in a big way. It made Quinn nervous to even be in her presence half the time. Which was just—

When Noah Puckerman asked her out, Quinn jumped at the chance. Anything to feel _normal_ again. The past year she had spent not being a social outcast was the best year of her life. Come hell or high water, she was not going back by proclaiming some big lesbian love.

* * *

Ohio State wasn't as bad as Rachel had painted it out to be in her mind. Something about higher education seemed to attract the open minded, and for once she felt at home regarding her ideals on gay rights, and she was really beginning to get into feminist rhetoric.

But what drew her in most was the theater department because, it was no NYADA, but it certainly had a lot to teach her. Her junior year of college she received the lead in Grease, which was just lovely. She would practice night and day to ensure that she did Olivia Newton John justice.

"I'm Gabriel."

Rachel shook his hand with a smile. Gabriel was a tall boy with black hair, playing opposite her, bad boy Danny Zuko. He had slender hips like a young John Travolta and a sly smile. The pair had little time to greet each other, thrown into a test scene to gauge their chemistry as soon as they were told they got the part. "I'm Rachel Berry," she greeted after the scene.

"Oh, I know." Gabriel flashed a confident grin. "I've heard great things about the illustrious Rachel Berry. Quite the talent."

She blushed with a demure tilt of her head. No one aside from her fathers and Quinn had called her talented before. To hear from a complete stranger that not only was she talented, but that other people had been talking about how talented she was proved to be a heady feeling.

"All right, guys, from the top!"

Like Finn Hudson, Rachel saw leading man potential in Gabriel and, after a four month stint performing Grease, the pair began to date. Above all else what Rachel liked about Gabriel was how much he validated her. He was never afraid to tell her how amazing she was, something even Finn had a hard time with sometimes. But Gabriel liked her, and Rachel liked the way he complimented her. And that was enough.

* * *

Once Quinn caught wind that Rachel was dating, she was decidedly uninterested in driving up to State the third weekend in January to visit the way she said she would. Besides, it was snowing, which was the excuse she had texted Frannie, then subsequently Rachel who was saddened by the news.

Instead, she spent that Friday evening in Breadstix with Puck, the guy she was seeing. The waiter delivered their drinks with a smile, and Puck swiped the straws off the table and placed them in his nose. "Check it out." Once they were secure, he pulled his hands away so she could marvel at his genius. "I'm a fucking seal."

Quinn rubbed at the back of her neck in embarrassment as people from other tables began to look at them. "I think you meant walrus," she replied.

Puck shrugged. "Whatevs." He removed the straws and placed Quinn's back on her side of the table. "So, like, what are you into?"

Quinn stared at the now contaminated straw. She wasn't quite into _that_. "Oh, you know, the usual," she answered, feigning interest as she casually knocked the straw off the table. It bounced off the booth she was sitting on and fell to the floor. "What about you?"

"Mario Kart." Puck's eyes began to shine. "Totally beat my own high score last night."

"That's really great." Her smile was tightlipped as she cringed inside. This wasn't one of her better ideas.

Dating was difficult for Quinn in particular, because she was hardly interested in anyone. It felt like everyone at her school was knee deep in their sexual awakening phase, and she was still paddling behind, waiting for the day someone would catch her attention.

She sighed and in a very un-ladylike display, placed her elbow on the table, chin in her hand. She technically _was_ interested in someone, but Quinn knew it would never happen in a million years. Rachel, for all intents and purposes, was straight. She was also five years older, and had probably never thought of Quinn that way. Rachel was into college boys named Gabriel who could act and sing like she could—neither of which Quinn could do.

The date didn't last for long and Quinn called for the check the moment Puck asked her what her favorite sex position was.

The next day, Quinn joined glee club. She told herself it was only to expand her extra-curricular for college.

* * *

The next time Quinn visited Frannie and Rachel, it was to spend an entire week with them for her spring break. Sue Sylvester had a weeklong conference with other cheerleading coaches around the country, and in unprecedented history, the Cheerios would go more than two days without practicing.

She was again greeted by Rachel with open arms. Rachel snagged Quinn's suitcase and carried it for her.

"You really don't have to—"

"Nonsense!" Rachel insisted as she twisted away from Quinn's reach. A teasing grin adorned her face, and Quinn looked away. "You're a guest at casa Fabray-Berry; I'd be a poor friend to not offer my hospitality."

"Where was your hospitality last time?" Quinn drawled, and Rachel laughed at the jab.

Without the tour they went straight to the dorms, and Rachel placed Quinn's suitcase in a corner of the common space. They crashed on the couch together and spent hours catching up.

"So you're no longer seeing Gabriel?" Quinn attempted to ask in an even tone.

Rachel shook her head. "He's a great boy, really. But a part of me felt really restless. Like something was missing." She bit the tip of her tongue where the truth lay. The truth was that a sophomore majoring in English, Robin, had caught her eye. They had crossed paths in a gender women's studies class, and at the moment, Rachel was testing the waters.

She was the first woman Rachel had ever expressed interest in, and it was a very play-by-ear situation. Besides, Quinn had grown up in the most Christian conservative family Rachel had ever met. She shuddered to think how Quinn, who looked up to her and exalted her probably too much, would think of her.

"Well, can I be honest?"

Rachel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Go ahead…"

Quinn laughed at her reaction. "I think he was a tool."

"You never met him!"

"I didn't have to!" Quinn defended. "Any guy you date is never going to be good enough for you."

The comment settled warmly in Rachel's chest. She smiled bashfully and dipped her head, leaning against Quinn's arm that rested along the back of the couch. "You're too good to me."

Quinn inhaled a deep breath at the sight of Rachel, looking incredibly small curled up on the couch and leaning against her arm. "It's true." Her voice sounded like a garbled mess even to her own ears, and she cleared her throat and tried again. "So, uh, what else has been going on?"

Rachel looked up at Quinn with a shake of my head. "Enough about me. I drive people crazy all day because all I talk about is myself. No, I want to hear about you."

She was a different Rachel from the one of Quinn's memory. She was still the same sweet girl Quinn had fallen in love with, but she carried herself differently, looked differently, and was much more self-aware than she had been at fifteen. And Quinn wasn't particularly fond of change, but she welcomed whatever Rachel Berry existed with open arms.

"Nothing, really. Umm, I joined glee club."

Rachel lit up. She scooted further along the couch to be closer to Quinn with bright eyes and a wide smile. "_Really_? Oh, Quinn, this is awesome!"

Quinn laughed at her excitement. "Yeah, well. It all keeps me busy."

"You're quite the busy girl," Rachel agreed. "How are your grades coming along?"

"Scholar roll, straight A's. Though I did get a B in chemistry last semester."

Rachel scoffed. "So disappointed," she joked in a mocking tone. "What about boys?"

Quinn eyed the way Rachel's thighs pressed together while she curled up on the couch. She was wearing a burgundy skirt, and a cream colored top, and for the life of her, Quinn couldn't figure out where Rachel had gotten her newfound fashion sense from. "No boys," she murmured.

Rachel's eyes bulged out of her head. "Absolutely insane. "You're _beautiful_." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you scaring them away?"

"Probably," Quinn laughed. It was a hollow sound.

"Well, I think you're just too smart for them," Rachel informed her. "Boys seem to always try to pick off the weaker girls, and you're anything but." She reached forward and patted Quinn's thigh. "Just promise me one thing. Never compromise yourself for the sake of some boy's affections. Because I can tell you, it's not worth it."

She looked so earnest, and all Quinn wanted in this candid moment between them was to tell Rachel once and for all that the reason she had joined glee club, the reason she didn't have any boys hanging around was because she was in love with her. Instead Quinn ignored the way her heart twisted inside her chest and forced a tight smile. "Yeah, of course."

* * *

When Frannie arrived, they all went to dinner.

They grabbed a booth at a restaurant about ten miles out and Quinn slid into the booth beside Rachel while Frannie, and her new boyfriend, Chet, occupied the opposite booth.

Quinn sized Chet up as he and the other three occupied themselves with their menus. He was a fellow blond, clean cut, shaven, and wore a red and blue striped tie with a blue blazer and khaki pants. Judging from the way he combed his hair to the side, he came from money. Quinn rolled her eyes. Every young boy who came from money seemed to adopt the same haircut, and she wondered if they all went to the same stuffy barber.

She felt a hand grasp hers and give a gentle squeeze. Quinn looked over to find Rachel staring at her. Rachel cut her eyes to Chet then back to Quinn. "_Play nice_," she mouthed.

Quinn's jaw dropped. As if she ever did anything _but_ play nice. She shrugged a little, and Rachel's eyebrows rose in silent warning.

Quinn turned away and slouched in her seat. Some things never changed, and Rachel making sure she was on her best behavior at all times were one of them.

The waitress approached the table, and when Rachel looked up, she froze.

"Rachel? Fancy seeing you here."

Quinn straightened in her seat around the same time Rachel shrank three sizes. Robin.

"Robin, hi." Rachel gestured around the table. "These are my friends—Frannie, my roommate, her sister, Quinn, and her boyfriend, Chet."

Everyone waved, except Quinn who hadn't finished her assessment of Robin yet.

"You haven't called me yet," Robin informed her as she reached for the pen by her ear and fished out a pad from the pocket of her apron.

Rachel winced at the accusation in her voice. "Yes, my profuse apologies. Quinn here is visiting from Lima for her spring break, and she and I—I guess we lost track of time catching up." She shared a brief smile with Quinn.

Robin pursed her lips at the display. "No worries then. What drinks can I get you all?"

It was a brush-off. One that stung, but Rachel was nothing if not an actress. She rolled with the punch and casually picked up her menu. "I'll probably have water," she mused.

"Apple juice," Quinn chimed in.

Glancing up from her menu, Frannie smiled at Quinn. "Sue's no soda diet."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "She's so ridiculous."

Frannie closed her menu. "Since I am no longer a Sue drone, I'll have a Mountain Dew."

"Water for me as well," Chet added.

When the waitress was gone, Quinn folded her arms in her lap and squared her shoulders. "So, Chet, what is it that you do?"

Frannie stopped breathing. She glowered at Quinn in silence at Chet's side.

Chet undid a button on his blazer and placed his arms on the table. "I attend MIT."

"Your major?"

"Engineering and computer science."

"So you should always be able to keep a job."

"Quinn!" Frannie hissed.

Underneath the table, Rachel placed her hand on Quinn's thigh as if soothing a wild animal. Quinn went to say something when she felt her mouth dry up. She swallowed a lump down her throat, and looked away from everyone.

"To answer your question, yes."

The table lulled into silence for a few moments until Robin returned with their drinks. She and Rachel held brief contact before Rachel looked away. The last thing she needed at this stuffy dinner was for either Quinn or Frannie to notice her holding meaningful eye contact with the waitress.

"How do you know her anyway?" Quinn asked once the waitress was done. Now that Chet's story had checked out, it was time to find out about this Robin person.

Rachel shrugged in faux nonchalance. "She's in my gender women's studies course on women in the media."

"That…actually sounds like a really cool class."

"It's quite fascinating—right now we're covering the dichotomy of the virgin and slut roles in mainstream media."

Chet choked on his water. "Such colorful language," he muttered to Frannie.

Quinn watched Rachel redden in embarrassment. "Yeah, I've noticed that recently," Quinn added, completely ignoring Chet. "How a woman can be sexy but not too sexy. It's seems like such an exhausting balancing act. Feminism is really interesting stuff."

Frannie watched the pair in bemusement. "Quinn, I was thinking of introducing Chet to mom and dad tomorrow."

Quinn cut her eyes to Frannie. "I _just_ got here and you're already leaving? To go home no less?"

"You can come if you wa—"

"Pass. Tell mother and father I said hi."

Rachel nudged Quinn's side.

"What?" Quinn defended. "I just left them."

Frannie narrowed her eyes at Quinn but said nothing. Had Chet not have been there she probably would have stuck her tongue out at Quinn, flipped her off, or both. But Frannie was on her best behavior, and Quinn raised an eyebrow in question at how different her sister was acting.

Rachel grabbed her menu and scrutinized it with critical eyes. "Huh."

Quinn sighed and looked toward the ceiling. "Nothing vegan, huh?"

Rachel shook her head. "No matter."

"It matters," Quinn insisted. "Is there any other place around here?"

Catching wind of the conversation, Frannie dropped her menu. "Rachel, I'm sorry. It completely slipped my mind with all the excitement of Quinn meeting Chet."

"Oh, it's no problem at all," Rachel insisted. "I'll be fine."

"Are you all ready to order?" Robin asked as she approached the booth again.

Quinn reached behind her for her jacket and moved to stand. "Actually, I think Rachel and I are going to leave."

Rachel, still glued to the booth, looked completely flabbergasted. "But, Quinn—"

"They don't have anything for you to eat here." She turned toward her sister. "You and Chet enjoy your dinner. We'll catch up back on campus, okay?"

"Be careful," Frannie implored.

Standing, Rachel's hand slipped in Quinn's and they walked out of the restaurant, with Robin's eyes boring into their skulls.

Columbus Ohio was a little more modern than Lima simply because of the younger demographic of college students. There weren't many vegan choices, but Quinn and Rachel were able to find a restaurant a few blocks away.

Rachel gasped as they settled into opposite booths. "I've never made anything vegan for you, have I?"

Quinn shook her head, eying the odd names of dishes on the menu.

"I'll have to remedy that before you leave."

"Just don't make…this." Her nose scrunched up as she pointed to the dish in question.

"Sour cream and onion kale chips are fantastic!"

Quinn shook her head good-naturedly. "With odd taste buds like that, you belong in New York."

Rachel smiled ruefully. "I may have…given up on that dream." It pained her to admit and she wrung her hands on the table as she pretended to read the menu.

But she should have known that nothing got past Quinn, the most perceptive human being Rachel had ever met. Quinn reached out to still Rachel's fidgeting hands under her warm palm. "Gave up? On your dreams?"

Rachel shied away from Quinn's touch. "It isn't a big deal, really."

Quinn's face pinched in irritation. "Don't lie to me."

They locked eyes, and Rachel sighed. The last thing she wanted was for Quinn to be mad at her.

"I just feel that I've peaked here," Rachel admitted with a wistful sigh. "Besides, I'm penniless and will be even more so once I graduate. I can't make it to New York without a dollar in my pocket."

"Get a job," Quinn urged. "You already compromised by attending State; let your fathers worry about paying for it. Get a job to save up money, and once you graduate you can go to New York."

"But I'll miss everyone," Rachel lamented. "My fathers, Frannie, the friends I've made here—you."

This time Quinn shied away when their gazes locked. "Sometimes sacrifices have to be made," she concluded. "But you can never give up on your dreams. And…all you can really do is pray that at the end of the day that the things and people meant to be in your life will either remain…or find their way back."

Rachel fiddled with her menu as she mulled over Quinn's words. It amazed her how placid she had become regarding her dreams over the years. She used to sound like Quinn, a real go-getter. But becoming an adult had really put things into perspective for Rachel. Things like time and money, neither of which she had. She wasn't getting any younger, and college was draining her parents' money by the day. "Such sage words from a sixteen year old," she murmured with a gentle smile that belied the inner turmoil she felt. "But then again you've always been wise beyond your years."

Quinn flipped through her menu with a huff. "My father jokes that I'm an old man."

"Why a man?" Rachel asked with a head tilt.

It was met with a shrug. "He wanted a boy."

* * *

Frannie made true on her promise, and she was back at State within a day. She and Quinn spent the week bonding like they had never done when they lived together, but by the weekend Frannie was gone again, away at MIT.

Rachel had promised Robin she would call, but she couldn't seem to tear herself away from Quinn. She had babysat Quinn when she was just a child, and spent countless nights at the Fabray house. To go from seeing Quinn nearly every day to only seeing her once every few months was hard on Rachel. Robin and the rest of the world could wait, for now she wanted her friend.

It was odd for her to consider Quinn a friend. She had conflicting feelings of seeing Quinn as an equal, yet also someone who still a child. Most times the child aspect won, as Quinn would gush about how popular she was. Popularity hadn't mattered to Rachel in ages, and it often took effort to relate to Quinn on that level. After working so hard to leave her high school self in the dust, she often had to dredge it up for the sake of relating to Quinn.

It had been a busy week, and it wasn't until Saturday night, the night before Quinn was to go home that Rachel had the opportunity to cook for her.

Quinn sat perched atop the small island in the already cramped kitchen as Rachel presented the dish before her. She reached for it. "What is this?"

Rachel swatted her hand. "Quinn Fabray, at least have the decency to wait until we can sit like human beings and have a meal."

Quinn glared up at Rachel, but retracted her hand.

"And these are cabbage rolls," Rachel finished with a proud smile. "They're simply delicious."

"I'll be the judge of that." Quinn grabbed the rolls and set the table while Rachel grabbed a bottle of chilled wine from the fridge. She poured herself a glass then called over her shoulder, "What will you be having?"

Quinn turned to look at her, and sank against the kitchen table, drinking in the sight of Rachel's long, toned legs that disappeared under a pair of lounge shorts. She wore a tank top that clung to her body and her hair was pulled into a messy bun atop her head with loose strands of hair trailing down her neck. It only served to make her appear more mature, and the domesticity of the moment tugged at Quinn in an unfamiliar way. Her breath hitched. "I'll have a glass," she said lowly.

Rachel turned to cast a dubious glare. "You're fifteen."

"I've drank before," was all Quinn said.

The wine sloshed in the bottle, threatening to spill as Rachel spun around to face Quinn fully. "Excuse me?" She couldn't believe her ears.

She was rewarded with a grin. Even as a child one of her favorite past times was getting under Rachel's skin. "I have."

"How much," Rachel demanded.

"Not much. A few wine coolers."

Rachel eyed Quinn up and down. "Despite our height difference inversely correlating with our age, you're still a child, Quinn."

"I'm not a child," Quinn groaned as she approached Rachel. "One glass?" she asked in a saccharine voice. "Please, Rachel?"

Quinn took another sip of her wine. "This is _amazing_."

Around the lip of her glass, Rachel hid an amused smile that oozed through her voice. "The food or the wine?"

"_Both_," Quinn practically moaned. "I was referring to the food, though."

She was nearing the end of her glass and had loosened up quite a bit over the last half hour. Their conversation had a natural laziness to it, the kind that only came from having known a person for nearly six years.

"So," Rachel punctuated by placing her glass on the table. "Has Quinn Fabray ever been in love?"

"Once," was Quinn's automatic reply as she picked up another cabbage roll. It was her sixth one, and Rachel wondered where in the world Quinn packed it all away.

The answer was surprising, and Rachel leaned forward in her seat, a quizzical and perhaps hurt expression on her face. "You never told me that."

Quinn paused, as if her brain had just caught to the subject of this conversation. She swallowed the bite of cabbage roll in her mouth, and took a swig of wine. "Because it's…a secret," she admitted.

The wounded expression on Rachel's face only intensified. "I was unaware that we were in the business of keeping secrets from one another."

Quinn bit the corner of her lip in thought. It was the only thing she could do to keep from talking before thinking. "It's not like that," she responded lamely.

"Then what is it like?" Rachel asked. Her tone was bordering on accusatory, and Quinn's spine straightened.

"It's like—" Quinn's gaze dropped to the food on her plate. She was never supposed to tell Rachel. But she had a glass of wine and good food in her, her mouth was getting away from her, and there was a niggling little thought in her brain that kept reminding her that this felt strangely like a date. "If I tell you, you'll hate me," she whispered at last.

Rachel tossed her napkin onto her plate and stood to kneel at Quinn's side. She grasped Quinn's hand and held it tightly in her own, because suddenly Quinn looked like she was ten again with the long, pouty face. "I could _never_ hate you," Rachel murmured fiercely. "Ever, Quinn. Sweetheart, I want you to feel comfortable telling me anything. You could rob a bank and I wouldn't think any less of you."

"Noted," Quinn replied with a breezy chuckle.

Rachel smiled with a shake of her head. She squeezed Quinn's hand once in comfort then stood and stepped away to grab her plate. "Also know that you don't have to tell me," she conceded, walking toward the sink. "I suppose I'll have to accept the fact that you're a growing girl, and you need your own secrets."

Quinn stood from her chair, staring at Rachel's back, and all her feelings came slamming against her ribcage at once. "It's you."

"I'm sorry?" Rachel called over the clanging dishes in the sink.

Quinn swallowed. "The person I'm in love with—it's you."


	2. Act II

**Title: **Tripping on Stepping Stones (Falling with Grace)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **5 years apart, Quinn, at 15, had already known Rachel for a very integral part of her life. So falling in love with her just made sense. If only for Rachel it was that easy.

**A/N:** Thank you for all of your kind reviews!

* * *

Rachel knew she had screwed up.

She closed the door behind her after walking Quinn to her car and seeing her off, and her head fell against the door with a hard thud.

Quinn had expected better of her, and Rachel had failed her. She had danced around Quinn's love confession with a quick hug, and an 'it's okay', and that was all they spoke of it. And Rachel knew Quinn needed more. She needed her best friend. But with her mind reeling over newfound information, Rachel couldn't be that for her in that moment. And this morning wasn't any better. They avoided eye contact and hardly said two words to each other until Quinn left. The hug was stiff and awkward, mostly on Quinn's part, but Rachel did nothing to dissuade her discomfort.

And then Quinn was gone, down the road to Lima, and Rachel was banging her head against the door, punishing herself because she should have handled that better. She was the older one for a reason.

Her phone chimed with an alarm, and she fished it out of the pocket of her dress to read it. Slapping a hand against her face, Rachel walked further into the common space, her mind racing a mile a minute. "It _can't_ be," she muttered to herself.

The interest meeting for _Wicked_ was today, and Rachel's eyes slipped shut in sorrow. Ohio State's theater department wasn't at all like the cut throat theater world Rachel had heard about. Here they cared about fairness as opposed to raw talent; and to ensure fairness in divvying out roles to everyone, interest meetings were held for each play. Whoever couldn't make the interest meeting also couldn't audition. And Rachel really wanted this part.

She sighed and plopped down on the couch. She wanted the part, but she wanted her friend more. And she knew what she had to do. But that didn't mean she couldn't wallow in self-pity for a bit.

* * *

Quinn spent the drive back to Lima with a sullen expression on her face. After managing to skate around the topic of her affection, Rachel spent the rest of the night ignoring it, attempting to continue as usual.

A lone tear trekked down Quinn's face and she hastily wiped it away. She didn't know what she expected from Rachel, but complete disregard for her feelings certainly wasn't it. That wasn't Rachel's style.

She texted plans to hang out with her friends on the drive back to Lima and as soon as she arrived, Quinn joined half her squad and half the football team at Breadstix. They tended to follow the cheerleaders wherever they went, so Quinn was unsurprised to find Puck among the crowd when she arrived.

The two fell into a booth, and Quinn welcomed his immaturity and sexual advances in an attempt to keep from drowning beneath the current of her emotions. It was all unfamiliar territory for her, unrequited love, heartbreak. They were difficult emotions to navigate, so she settled for shoving them to the side.

Puck sipped his drink, eyes on Quinn. "I knew you'd come around." He flexed for good measure. "Chicks dig The Puck."

She laughed into her hand, half forced, half incredulous. "Who calls you that?" she inquired, swinging her hair to one side.

At that, Puck faltered, his ladies man prowess skidding to a halt. "Girls," he finally uttered.

Intrigued at the way she had quickly reduced him to a stammering mess, Quinn leaned forward. "Oh, yeah?" Her voice was doing something unrecognizable, but from the wide-eyed look Puck was giving her, it was okay. "What girls?"

Puck gulped. He had never heard a girl sound that way before. Some had tried and failed, but _Quinn_. "Some…"

Quinn smirked. "I'm not gonna call you The Puck, Puck."

He cleared his throat, and pitched his voice deeper to regain a sense of control. "You can call me whatever you want, babe."

But he still handed the control over to her, put the ball in her court, and a small thrill unlike anything Quinn had ever felt before pulsed through her. She could do this.

They ate dinner in relative silence, occasionally engaging in a verbal power play or two. When her squad began to file out of the restaurant, Quinn followed suit.

"Wait." Puck reached for her arm when she began to walk away.

Quinn turned to him, lips already upturned at the corners. "Can I help you, Puck?"

He stepped closer with a wide gait and all the confidence in the world. "Let me take you out again. Without everyone else this time."

Quinn bit her lip, gazing up at him through her eyelashes. "Maybe."

She nearly hyperventilated on her way to the car. Who _was_ that girl back there? Quinn had never experienced her before, and wondered what rock she had been hiding under. She had always been confident, and whatever confidence she lacked, she faked with no problem. But what happened back there went beyond confidence. She had tapped into someone brand new. And she realized, as she pulled out of the parking lot of Breadstix, that she liked it.

* * *

When Quinn pulled into the driveway of her home, she saw the front door open, the light inside illuminating a small figure in her doorway. Cautiously, Quinn stepped out of her car. The figure stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her, and without the light washing her out, Quinn recognized her features.

"Rachel," she breathed.

Rachel flashed a small, guilty smile as she approached. Her hands were clasped in front of her demurely as she came face to face with Quinn. "Hi, Quinn."

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked, glancing from her house to Rachel.

"I couldn't leave things how they were," Rachel admitted.

The keys jingled around and around in Quinn's iron clad grip. "Oh," she muttered.

"Quinn, I'm sorry," Rachel rushed out. "I'm so sorry, o-okay—I just—I blanked. I was, for once—" she attempted a short, self-deprecating laugh to ease tension "—I was rendered totally and utterly speechless. And when you needed me most, I failed you," she murmured softly. "And I'm so, so sorry."

Quinn could barely muster up her voice. "It's okay."

"It's _not_ okay," Rachel lamented, nearly in tears. She gesticulated with her hands as she tried to be understood while her body shook with silent hiccupping sobs. "I love you, Quinn. And I don't _ever_ want to lose you because of my callousness—I'm _sorry_."

"Hey, hey—slow down," Quinn instructed. She teetered on the balls of her feet in uncertainty before no longer being able to take it.

Rachel hiccupped and sighed when she felt Quinn's arms wrap around her neck. Unfolding from herself, she gripped the sleeves of her sweater for comfort as she wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist.

"I'm sorry for making this about me," Rachel whispered a moment later. "I'm so incredibly selfish."

"Don't worry about. I umm—" Quinn sighed. "I actually don't want to talk about it, so."

Rachel pulled away so she could see Quinn's face. "Are you sure?"

Quinn gave a small shrug. "I don't know? It's just all really embarrassing, and—"

"It's not embarrassing," Rachel gently resisted.

"It is to me. I just—" She folded her arms across her chest and turned sharply at the waist to angle herself away from Rachel. Quinn could have a normal life. She could do everything her parents expected of her, and hope that if Puck can't be the rich guy, then he could at least learn to be the decent guy she could bring home one day. She didn't have to pursue Rachel. It didn't have to be this way. "Will you—could you ever maybe feel the same way?"

Rachel gnawed on the inside of her cheek, because she was willing to help Quinn work through her feelings and come to a place of closure. But she was not willing to talk semantics regarding what scenario, if any, they could date.

"Quinn, sweetheart, I can't," was all Rachel could string together. There were so many things she couldn't do right now, and it made her feel so powerless. She couldn't be with Quinn, couldn't spare her heart ache, and honestly couldn't have this conversation.

It was all asking her to put too much on the line, five years of friendship, not to mention the illegality of it all, and her own moral hang-ups about the whole situation. "I can't have those feelings for you, Quinn. I don't—"

Quinn huffed a bitter laugh and dropped her hands to her side. "Okay, I get it."

Rachel's mouth clamped shut. She had never heard Quinn take such a tone with her. She had heard her try when Quinn was younger and Rachel was dating Finn, but the tone that had just come out of Quinn's mouth was downright bone chilling.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Rachel tapped into the confidence to try again. "You are absolutely exceptional, Quinn. And you know how fond I am of you. It's not a matter of whether or not I care about you, because I do, so much. It's a matter of right and wrong, and it would be wrong for us to date, Quinn. You're a minor, for goodness sakes."

"All right, all right. I get it." Quinn finally turned to look at Rachel. The dark cloud that had come over her had seemed to rescind as she even forced a pained, lopsided smile. "Don't worry about it. And thank you—thanks for coming."

Rachel's eyes narrowed at the sudden change of heart. Since moving away for college, she had forgotten how abruptly Quinn's mood could shift. She stepped forward in hopes of reconciliation. "May we hug? I have to catch the next bus to Columbus, but I really needed to know you were all right."

"Yeah." Quinn nodded with a tight jaw. "I'll be fine, promise." The pair shared a hug that in no way rivaled the awkwardness of this morning, but was just as disconcerting.

On the way back to Ohio State, Rachel couldn't help but think she had missed her mark.

* * *

Frannie found Rachel sobbing in the darkness of her bedroom when she finally arrived back home that evening. Alarmed, she flicked the lights off and rushed to Rachel's side of the bed.

"Oh, sweetie, what happened?" Her eyes were alight with concern, her touch light as she stroked Rachel's hair. "Is this about Gabriel?"

Rachel felt her stomach twist in knots at the irony, and she cried anew.

Frannie cupped the sides of Rachel's face and regarded her critically. "Goodness, you look positively heartbroken. What in hell happened while I was out?"

The entire story from start to finish bubbled up inside of her chest, but Rachel suppressed it. Her friendship with Frannie meant more than anything. Frannie was the reason Rachel had managed to survive high school, though in some ways she was also the cause of high school being utter _hell_. But had she not have eventually been taken under Frannie's wing, Rachel shuddered to think of the fact that she could have been tormented even _more_. She couldn't bear to have Frannie view her as some pervert who was making moves on her little sister. Or even worse, a creep who broke her little sister's heart.

Instead, Rachel just clutched Frannie closer, and attempted to find solace in the fact that at least one of the Fabray sisters didn't hate her guts.

She just wished Quinn wasn't the one who did.

* * *

Puck was no Rachel, but Quinn decided resolutely that he would do.

After the two of them became official, Quinn's popularity skyrocketed to heights she had never imagined. She was leagues ahead of everyone as most popular girl in school, and she had reached a level of popularity that even Frannie hadn't.

She smiled proudly as she walked into the school. Puck smoothly slid in beside her and grabbed her hand. He was the football team's new quarterback, and wore his letterman jacket proudly. "Shall we?" he asked, casting a sideways glance at Quinn.

Quinn nearly burst in excitement. "We shall."

She had given up walking down the hallways with her Cheerios in favor of walking with Puck. It was more to stake her claim than anything. As quarterback and resident bad boy, Noah Puckerman was surprisingly a hot commodity at McKinley High. Quinn never would have guessed. It seemed her tastes in significant others was a tad different than her peers.

Then again, her tastes in significant others was Rachel Berry, so that alone should have informed Quinn that she was a little different.

Puck walked her to class, and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, and Quinn watched the other girls practically fall over themselves in envy with an evil smile.

They were in glee club together, which helped maximize their appeal, which would work in their favor down the line. Quinn was nothing if not a planner, and junior prom was only a year away. If she could find a way to keep Puck around until then, that crown was hers. And, as Quinn looked around to the social outcasts that constituted this glee club, she realized that Puck really was the cream of the crop as far as boys went. And he was the only one who was going to win her that crown.

At any costs, it would be hers.

* * *

Rachel was a wreck. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else she could have done. Rash by nature, she often did things without thinking. That combined with her tunnel vision sometimes left others devastated in her wake as if she were a tornado that had blown through a town.

Finn was one such casualty. He didn't fit in the grand scheme she saw for herself, so Rachel had to end it. And as callous as that made her sound, she wasn't. Or so she thought.

Gabriel was a second casualty because he just didn't _fit_ into her life the way she wanted.

And Robin was someone Rachel was trying really hard not to make a casualty. But as she stood at the door waiting for Robin to gather her things to leave after their shared class, Rachel couldn't help but feel that was going to be the case. About two weeks after the blow up with Quinn, Rachel had called Robin and Robin didn't answer. They hadn't spoken since the restaurant, which Rachel found she couldn't _rationally_ blame Robin for. Irrationally, however…

"Hi!" Rachel chirped as Robin approached her, or the exit, rather. "Riveting dialogue today, wouldn't you say?"

Robin looked at her as if she had grown two heads. She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, and attempted cordiality. "Is that really all you have to say to me?"

It fell a little flat.

Rachel winced. "I'm sorry it took me so long to call. But to be fair, when I did call, you didn't answer. And didn't return my call."

"Rachel, allow me to be frank," Robin prefaced. "You seem like a closet case."

Rachel frowned deeply. "I beg your pardon."

Robin cracked a small smile. "You seem to be so deep in the closet, you can't even begin to fight your way out. And that's fine. We all start somewhere. But it's just—I've been there. And I've dated girls who have been there. And I am so far removed from the closet now that I can't see myself going back." Her smile turned sad. "Not even for you. I'm sorry."

There were just so many rebuttals borne of hurt feelings on the tip of her tongue, that Rachel stammered trying to get any of them out. Then Robin placed a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek, and Rachel quieted. "I'm sorry," Robin said again. "But you and that Quinn girl sure did seem to have something special."

Rachel leapt back from Robin's embrace, looking positively grief stricken. "She's _fifteen_!" she hissed. Why did no one understand that?

Robin's eyebrows knitted. "Oh, goodness, I'm sorry. It's just—the two of you seemed _really_ close—"

"She's my best friend," Rachel elaborated, horror still fixed upon her face.

"Your best friend is a fifteen year old?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Look, I know how it sounds, okay? But I used to babysit her, and I'm friends with her older sister. Quinn, Frannie, and I just kind of grew up together. I've never had many friends," she added. Even now at Ohio State the only person she could call her friend was Frannie. Gabriel couldn't count because he was an on again off again lover. Frannie was it.

Sensing the train of Rachel's thoughts, Robin offered a small smile. She stepped forward and linked her arms with Rachel, green eyes glistening as she offered Rachel a platonic date for coffee.

* * *

"No wonder the girl has a crush on you, Rachel. Have the two of you ever heard of boundaries?" Robin laughed as Rachel shook her head in embarrassment, cheeks reddening.

"I just never thought we needed it. I thought she was _straight_." Rachel bit her lip. "I didn't think anything we did was inherently wrong."

"It's not wrong," Robin was quick to clarify. "At least, from what I can tell. I just think Quinn's going through puberty, and this is a time in her life when the first real romantic feelings for another begin to form. And you've always been such a source of positivity in her life. You've been the one she could go to with problems, a real confidant. And a source of reinforcement to her self-esteem and sense of self. In a way, it kind of makes sense, from her view point. I mean, why not fall in love with you?"

Rachel sighed and took a sip of her coffee. She could think of a few reasons to why not.

"And it doesn't seem to be a matter of her being straight or gay. I don't think she's made that distinction for herself. Which, given what you've informed me about her upbringing, makes sense. She was never supposed to think about these things, and so she hasn't. And then one day feelings for you just pop up out of nowhere. And it isn't a matter of is she straight or is she gay, but that she just has feelings."

"What's your major again?" Rachel couldn't help but ask.

Robin laughed a little. "Psychology."

"I was afraid of that. You've been psychoanalyzing me since day one, haven't you?"

At that, Robin looked a touch guilty. "Uh, it's kind of habitual."

Rachel leaned back in her seat. "All right. Lay it on me."

"And it's not like I'm _certified_ or anything," Robin continued. "Everything is just minor observations, pure speculation on my part. And I'm _just_ a sophomore."

"Nonsense, when you're good, you're good," Rachel admonished gently. "Besides, you just described Quinn Fabray's sexuality to a T, and you met her for what, all of two minutes."

"To be fair, you filled in a lot of backstory for me."

"The point is you're good." Rachel shrugged a little. "Come on, I can take it. Tell me about myself."

It was silent for a moment as Robin stared at Rachel. "You're sure?" she asked one last time.

Rachel shrugged again. "Sure, it'll be fun. And I'm sure this will be very educational."

"Okay." Robin inhaled a deep breath, her hands molding around the cup of coffee. "You strike me as someone who's restless. And it mostly manifests itself in your personal life. The only two people who have constantly remained in your life since high school seem to be Quinn and Frannie. Am I correct?"

Rachel shifted in her seat with a curt nod. "That is correct."

"You feel like something's missing. A person, an experience, a past dream—something."

Rachel swallowed. "Well, that certainly was interesting." She cleared her throat. "I have an audition in about an hour or so, so I think I'm going to order a little something, then get out of here."

Robin reached across to grab Rachel's hand as she reached for the menu. "Hey, if I hit too close to home or anything, I'm—"

"No." Rachel shook her head with a tight smile. "You didn't. At all. This—this was fun. Perhaps we can try this again."

* * *

"You know you don't have to come to my sister's lame singing competition, don't you?"

Rachel frowned at the description. She ran her mascara brush across her eyelashes one more time then spun to find Frannie reclining on her bed as if it were her own. "You _do_ remember I was the very first president of the club that _has_ these 'lame singing competitions', right?"

Frannie smiled like Quinn, which only infuriated Rachel that much more. "Oops," she intoned insincerely.

Rachel couldn't help but laugh. "Jerk. Besides, I'm already in New York. It'd be a shame, and waste of money I don't have to back out now." Her stomach had been in knots all morning. This would be the first time in nearly two months Rachel would see or even hear from Quinn. She hadn't visited since The Incident. And granted, Quinn only visited every few months, but Rachel couldn't stop blaming herself for the fact that Quinn hadn't been back.

It had become glaringly obvious through their lack of communication, or Quinn's rather, that Rachel missing her chance to audition for _Wicked_ to visit Quinn hadn't fixed things in the slightest. She tried her hardest not to lament on the lost opportunity, but she was never in her life going to get the chance to play Elphaba again, and the fact that she and Quinn weren't even talking after she had wasted the opportunity was a small thorn in her side.

But Quinn was her friend above all else. And Rachel was going to see her perform.

* * *

Quinn held hands with one of her teammates in jittery excitement as the two girls bounded toward the stage. It had felt like the perfect way to end what had felt like a long year, and especially a long few months. Her heart pounded beneath her breast in anxiety at performing for such a large crowd.

"Quinn, sweetie, hold on."

Quinn stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of that voice. She turned to find Judy Fabray walking toward her. Feeling the other girl still holding fast to her hand, Quinn turned and flashed a brief, tight smile. "I'll be there in a sec, okay?"

The girl nodded and skipped off.

"What is it?" Quinn asked her mother. Ice had slipped seamlessly into her tone.

* * *

Rachel practically vibrated with nervous energy as she and Frannie filed down the rows to take their seats. "This takes me back," she hissed to Frannie in excitement. Glee, New York—it was all coming back to her.

Frannie opened her program. "Oh, yeah?" she deadpanned. "Doesn't do a thing for me."

"Is that Rachel? Rachel Berry?"

Rachel looked up at the sound of her name. Standing up two rows above her was Kurt Hummel. They squealed at the exact same time, and Frannie grimaced as she covered her ear. "Take that to the next row, will you?"

But Rachel was already gone. She shuffled out of the row and met Kurt in the middle of the aisle. "Bring it in!" Kurt demanded as he hugged Rachel tight. He sighed as they pulled back. "I should have known you'd be here."

Coiffing her hair, Rachel laughed. "Of course! I needed a little glee in my life. And Quinn—Frannie's sister—is performing. This is her first Nationals competition."

"We _must_ catch up. You know Mercedes moved here a few months ago, right?"

She felt a pang in her heart that was indescribable. "No," she murmured. "I didn't—I didn't know that." Kurt and Mercedes had been her best friends in high school. They all had grandiose plans of travelling to New York and having successful careers, and Rachel would have never guessed that out of all of them, she would be the one to see her dreams unfulfilled.

"Dinner," Kurt insisted. "After the show?"

"Yes," Rachel blurted, felt compelled to. She trickled back down into her seat after they parted always, and couldn't help but feel like she had gotten the short end of the stick in life. Again.

* * *

Judy rubbed the palms of her hands together nervously. "I know I said I wouldn't come, but…I couldn't miss my little girl."

Quinn knew a trap when she saw one. When she had left Judy this morning, she and informed Quinn that she wouldn't be attending her competition because she had important plans she couldn't cancel on.

But Quinn knew all about Judy's important plans. Over the past few years Judy had been entertaining a drinking habit with some friends that she met with every once in a while to play bridge. It made absolutely no sense that Judy was here right now.

With Quinn looking none too inviting, Judy decided to just go for it. "Your father and I are getting a divorce."

Quinn stopped in her tracks. "W-what?"

"We're moving out, Quinnie. He can have his little floozies. You and I will be a family."

* * *

"New Directions!" the announcer called.

The audience began clapping politely, and Rachel sprang from her seat to loudly cheer. "Go, Quinn! Go, Mr. Schuester!"

"Thank you all again for coming, and absolute silence as New Directions takes to the stage."

She wasn't sure if it was directed at her, but she looked around self-consciously as she took her seat.

* * *

"Quinn, it's time to get out there with your teammates," Mr. Schuester called before he turned and rushed toward the stage.

Her mother couldn't have picked a worse time. It was her first Nationals competition, and the first time Quinn had ever been to New York. She didn't need Rachel's over-exuberant text message to know she would be in the crowd tonight, and her mother wanted to pick now, _now_ to discuss the outcome of her years failed marriage with her daughter.

"I know this is difficult to hea—"

Quinn took a step back, turned on her heel, and ran.

* * *

Across the stage in the audience, Judy shuffled down the aisle to sit beside Frannie. "Hi, dear."

"Hey, mom. How's it going?"

The curtain closed and the lights dimmed as a hush fell over the crowd waiting in anticipation for the competition to begin.

Judy leaned over toward Frannie. "Your father and I are getting a divorce," she whispered.

Only, it was quiet enough in the entire theater to hear a pin drop, and when Rachel heard this particular pin drop, her eyes widened.

The curtain lifted in a flash as New Directions was again announced to perform. Rachel instantly noticed it was a group number, and attempted to smile despite the sad new she had overheard.

"You've _got_ to be fucking kidding me," Frannie hissed. "You're telling me this _now_? Way to show some tact like always, mom."

Rachel tried not to allow Frannie's growing ire to distract her from the competition. But New Directions was missing one key member. And as Rachel's frantic gaze darted from one person to the next on stage, it became increasingly obvious that they were short a member. "Quinn," she whispered to herself. Without consulting the pair beside her bickering over the state of the Fabray household, Rachel shot up from her seat and out of the row.

She stormed pass every stage-hand in her way with determination guiding every step.

"Excuse me, miss?"

It was a security guard, and against her better judgment, Rachel started running.

"Miss!" he yelled after her.

Dark hair whipping behind her, she ran past glee club members of other schools in search of either Quinn or Mr. Schuester without any luck. "Mr. Schue?" she called, at a loss.

"Ma'am, you cannot be back here."

Rachel spun on her heel, her anxiety over Quinn's well-being bleeding into anger. "I will have you know, sir, that I happen to be the very _first_ president that New Directions of McKinley High has _ever_—"

"Rachel?"

She turned to find Mr. Schuester approaching with a bemused expression on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Schuester!" Overcome with sudden emotion, Rachel leapt to give Mr. Schuester a hug. "I'm here for Quinn. She wasn't on stage, and—"

"Wait, Quinn isn't on stage?" His eyebrows bunched as he looked toward the stage where New Directions was performing.

Rachel sighed internally. She liked Mr. Schuester a lot, but he never was one for noticing a girl in the middle of a crisis. "I was wondering if you've seen her."

He frowned in thought. "The last time I saw Quinn, she was heading to the bathroom after talking to her mother."

Rachel burst through the bathroom door, heart climbing in her throat. "Quinn!"

And there, standing at the far end of the bathroom against the wall, was Quinn Fabray. She looked up at the sound of her name to find Rachel walking further into the bathroom, and rushed toward her to close the distance.

"Quinn—" Whatever else Rachel was going to say died in her throat when she found her arms full of a five-foot-six blonde with a broken heart. Rachel's eyes shut in agony as she listened to Quinn sob against her shoulder. "Sweetheart," was all she could manage in a choked, pained voice. She rubbed Quinn's back in the only form of comfort she knew how to give in a situation like this.

Quinn sniffled and rested her cheek against Rachel's shoulder. "They're _divorcing_."

Rachel held Quinn tighter. "I heard," she murmured. "I'm so sorry, Quinn." It honestly baffled her. The Fabrays seemed to have a picture perfect life. How Quinn's parents could suddenly up and divorce was beyond her comprehension.

But some things weren't meant to be understood.

So Rachel just held Quinn tighter for upwards to an hour, and neither said a word.

New Directions didn't win, and it was shitty icing on a shitty cake of a shitty year for Quinn, it felt like.

* * *

She felt so incredibly out of place.

They sat in a booth and Kurt and Mercedes shared one side while Rachel occupied the other alone. She should have brought Frannie. Quinn was rightfully celebrating making Nationals with her team, and she needed this day more than anything. But Frannie was likely just watching TV back in the hotel room she and Rachel shared. It took everything Rachel had not to text her to meet her at the restaurant.

The dynamic was way off. They used to be an equilateral triangle—equal sides, equal friendships. Now it was distorted. Kurt and Mercedes had tons of inside jokes that Rachel wasn't privy to. To their credit, they would attempt to explain it, but it wasn't the same. Inside jokes operated on the basis of _you had to be there_, and Rachel was not. This was the first time she had even stepped foot in New York since Nationals her senior year of high school. It had been years. And it was utterly embarrassing.

"So what have you been up to, Rachel?" Kurt asked as he and Mercedes calmed from another round of laughter at yet another joke that Rachel couldn't relate to. "How's Ohio?"

It felt like a cutting remark, though Rachel knew it wasn't. She cleared her throat. "It's great. As I said before, Frannie and I are roommates—"

"I still can't believe you guys ever became friends," Mercedes interrupted, mystified. "We all thought she was just yanking your chain all along," she went on to admit.

"Yes, well, things change." There was a bite to her tone that she hadn't meant, but it was there. She averted her eyes. "Ohio State has a better theater program than I could have asked for. Most recently I had the honor of playing Sandy in a production of _Grease_."

Kurt's eyes widened. "No _way_. I _love_ _Grease_."

She couldn't tell whether he was genuinely impressed or patronizing her, but she smiled anyway. "It was wonderful. I've been taking dance classes since I was a first year, so it wasn't too strenuous, but still a very rewarding learning experience."

Kurt nodded along, impressed. "The leading lady, wow. I still can't land anything besides effeminate best friend. And I've really been trying to tone it down," he lamented with a faux frown."

Mercedes laughed at his antics. "Bless his heart, he really has. But you know Kurt. He could never tone down the gay."

For the first time all dinner, Rachel laughed. It was finally something she could relate to, something that called back to a time when all three of them were friends. Her shoulders loosened as she sank back into the booth. "I've missed you guys," she declared.

Mercedes smiled while Kurt leaned forward. "We've missed you, too. When are you coming to New York, missy?"

Rachel sighed deeply. It was news she was going to have to break to them eventually, and herself. "I don't think that I am," she admitted. "I think my dream has run its course, guys."

Mercedes look wholly troubled by the revelation. "Seriously? But we all made plans to go to New York together."

"And my plans should have included money." She laughed self-deprecatingly. "I was young, and way too much of a dreamer. It's time I woke up."

"That doesn't sound like the Rachel I've always known. Annoying, squawky—" Mercedes laughed at the appalled look on Rachel's face. "You never let anyone dissuade you, including me. _That's_ the Rachel I remember."

"It's not about being dissuaded, guys."

"Sounds like it to me," Kurt finally spoke up. "I don't like this side of you. It's sullen, and brooding, and defeated, and none of those are words I would have ever used to describe you."

Rachel sighed. "I don't expect you guys to understand. I mean, Mercedes, your dad's a doctor. And Kurt, your dad may have struggled a bit, but his career as a mechanic has really taken off."

"Oh, don't play this game," Kurt said. "Your dad's a dentist. I get the money issue, I do. But my dad promised me that if I worked my ass off as much as he did, he'd help me."

"Yeah, same here. I mean, I've dropped an album, and my ass is still busting tables at a diner. You gotta fake it til you make it."

"I heard that!" Kurt and Mercedes slapped hands.

Dinner didn't last much longer, and Rachel spent the entire time distracted. Quinn had told her seemingly ages ago that the first step to chasing her dreams was to get a job. And now Kurt and Mercedes were telling her the exact same thing. It was astonishing how wise beyond her years Quinn could be. Moreover, she found solace in the fact that things weren't as easy as it seemed for Kurt and Mercedes.

But none of this changed the fact that her dream was over. She was twenty-one years old, and in Broadway years, she was rapidly heading for over the hill territory. It was over. And to ask her parents now to help fund her move to New York would be even more selfish than asking three years ago. They had college debts to pay off, and so did she.

And perhaps her niggling pride played a hand. In all of her fantasies of becoming a Broadway star, Rachel had never calculated having the drab job of waiting tables. She knew her hypothetical Broadway career would be a lot of hard work before a big pay off. But she had always imagined her hard work would include hours on set reciting lines, possibly getting looked over for roles because she didn't fit into certain ridiculous standards of beauty. But not _waiting tables_.

"We _have_ to do this again," Kurt once again insisted as they exited the restaurant. "Come to New York again. If not to stay then at least to visit."

"Yeah, I can't lie, I miss having Little Ms. Berry around," Mercedes admitted with a smile.

Rachel grinned and grabbed their hands. "I will," she promised. "Trust me, this isn't the last New York has seen of Rachel Berry."

* * *

A few days later found Rachel on the Fabray doorstep with a heavy heart. It was the last time she would be visiting this house. A pile of packed boxes sat beside the door, and without walking in to greet everyone, Rachel simply picked up a box and took it to Quinn's car.

Junior year was over, and she had been home for a couple of weeks now. She and Quinn had been trying to get their friendship off the ground again, but they still had yet to discuss The Incident. Whenever Rachel would bring it up, Quinn changed the subject. And Rachel could understand. Quinn was going through a very difficult time in her life, and was trying to minimize as many stressors in her life as possible.

"Hey!"

Rachel placed a box in the trunk of Quinn's car and glanced up to find Frannie walking down the driveway in a pair of daisy dukes and a cut up t-shirt. Amused, Rachel walked toward her. "Where's Quinn?"

Frannie shrugged. "I don't know."

* * *

"Are you sure this is going to feel good?"

"Trust me, babe."

Quinn leaned back against the pillows with a deep breath while Puck mouthed at her neck. She found it difficult to think straight when her virginity was on the line. Her eyes slipped shut as she wondered if this was something she could go through with. Being a virgin wasn't that big of a deal. Frannie wasn't one, no one on her Cheerio squad was, and Rachel—actually Quinn wasn't sure if Rachel was a virgin or not, but she didn't want to think about it.

Rachel had no place in her thoughts right now.

"I don't know about this," she admitted after a moment.

Puck pulled back and reached for the six pack on his dresser. And really, the fact that he had a six-pack on his dresser at the age of 17 (he had failed a grade) should have probably raised a few red flags. "Here, have another wine cooler."

"No, I—" Quinn pressed against his chest and leaned up onto her elbows. "Do you have protection?"

Puck scoffed at the question as if it were trivial. "_Trust_ me, babe," was all he said.

And it probably shouldn't have been enough, but it was. Quinn lied back against the sheets once more and pulled Puck with her.

He reached for her spanks when a phone began to ring. The ringtone was _Don't Rain on My Parade_, and Quinn shoved Puck away from her and leapt from the bed. "I gotta take that," she rushed.

"What the hell?"

Heart thundering in her chest and blood rushing to her ears, Quinn could barely hear Puck's protests as she pressed the answer call button. "Hello?"

"Quinn." It was the tender sound of Rachel's relieved sigh, and tears sprang to her eyes. "Quinn, what are you doing?"

"I don't know," Quinn croaked, honestly.

"Where are you?" Rachel demanded, picking up on her tone immediately. She had known it for six years now. "I'm on my way."

"Rachel," Quinn cried into the phone.

By the time Rachel arrived at Puck's house, there wasn't a word that could quite describe the anger that was bubbling inside her. She parked Quinn's car curbside and stalked toward the door. It opened before she had a chance to knock and Quinn, dressed in a rumpled Cheerios uniform and an uncharacteristically unkempt ponytail, looked completely shamefaced as she met Rachel's irate eyes briefly then shied away from them. "Rachel—"

"Where is he?"

Quinn straightened at the sound of Rachel's voice. She had never heard it sound so grave. "Rachel, look—"

Rachel stormed into the house past Quinn to find a shirtless boy standing a few feet behind her looking like a petrified little boy. "Are you Noah Puckerman?" Rachel nearly shouted.

He winced both at her tone and the fact that she used his whole name. "Yes. But please don't—"

"Don't you _ever_ lay a finger on Quinn again, do I make myself clear?" She pointed an accusatory finger at him while her other hand clenched into a trembling fist at her side. It shook with rage Rachel had never felt before. Quinn was just a _child_. This overgrown man-boy had no right touching her. "I don't even want you to look in her direction," she growled.

Quinn walked closer to the two of them, at a loss for what to do. "Rachel," she tried again. "It's okay. We were just—"

Rachel rounded on Quinn. Anger and sadness roiled in her stomach at the sight of the little girl she used to babysit standing before her. "Quinn—" Rachel stopped short. She forced herself to inhale a deep breath, lips pressed into a thin line. She had already been skating on thin ice with Quinn, and didn't want to worsen anything by letting her mouth get away from her. "We're leaving. Let's go."

Quinn flinched as Rachel walked past her. She looked over at Puck who was frozen where he stood, and turned to follow Rachel.

* * *

They rode home in silence, Rachel driving. Quinn couldn't bear to look anywhere but at her lap, embarrassed and ashamed. She had disappointed everyone—Judy, Russell, Rachel. And she could bear her parents' disappointment; it often seemed like no matter how well she did in life, they were always disappointed. But Rachel's was a disappointment Quinn had never fathomed. She suddenly felt ten years old again, and seemed to shrink in size in the passenger seat.

Rachel mentally rehearsed her lines over and over again in the silence as she drove them back to Quinn's house. It had grown more than obvious that this conversation needed to happen today. She didn't need to be a psychology major to see that Quinn was floundering. Casting a sideways glance at her, Rachel sighed. If this wasn't a cry for help, she didn't know what was.

She pulled up curbside instead of in the driveway and rolled the windows up before turning on the air. Rachel just watched Quinn's rigid form for a long moment. She had never known Quinn to cower from her. "Quinn, I think it's time we had the talk."

Quinn seemed to unravel unconsciously before her. She unfolded her arms and her hands plopped at her side on the seat as her posture eased back into the seat.

Rachel turned to face Quinn more fully. "Quinn, sweetheart, I'm sorry. Truly. I never—I handled your newfound feelings for me in an incredibly graceless and unintentionally crass way and I'm sorry. But I implore you to understand things from my perspective. A ten year old girl has a crush on you, and wants you to reciprocate. How would that make you feel?"

Quinn's nose crinkled at the description, though she remained mute. "It's not the same," she finally responded. Her voice had grown nasally from crying, and she cleared her throat.

"No?" Rachel challenged in a gentle voice. "Okay, you're twenty-one, and a newly sixteen year old girl—"

"No, it's—" Quinn growled. "It's not the same because this isn't about some arbitrary scenario." Her lips quirked into a frown. "It's you and me."

"And that's exactly why it freaks me out, sweetheart," Rachel explained. "It's _you_. The little girl with the glasses who had her nose in a book the first time I met her. The little girl I babysat. I mean, your sister's my age, and you're _her_ little sister, Quinn. That's the perspective I'm looking at this from."

"But I'm not a little girl anymore," Quinn pointed out for the hundredth time.

Her voice teetered on a whine, enhanced by the nasal quality of her voice, and Rachel smiled. "I know. I think I…saw that a little earlier." When she saw a blush crawl across Quinn's cheeks, her smile broadened. "I know it's taking me some time to see that. But I will one day, I promise. It's just—for now, you're still my little girl. And I'm sorry. I know it frustrates you."

Quinn looked away. She glanced down at the lines in her hands, digging her feet into her carpet below. "How do you feel about me?" she asked quietly.

Rachel steeled her features, attempting not to show any outright reaction, lest she scare Quinn away again. "Honestly? I don't know, Quinn. You're only sixteen years old. I refuse to allow myself to see you that way."

"So you don't feel anything for me? Great," was Quinn's sarcastic reply.

"Sweetheart, I love you. I babysat you for quite some time. I am extremely fond of you, Quinn, inside and out. You're smart. You're," Rachel sighed, "insanely beautiful. It's hard to look at sometimes, truthfully."

Quinn flashed a brief, bashful smile.

"I have an abundance, a multitude of feelings for you, Quinn. But I cannot allow myself to view you in a romantic sense. It's not right."

Dejected, Quinn nodded. "Okay."

Rachel stared at her fondly. "Can I have a hug now?"

Quinn grimaced, tensing and leaning away. "You still want contact with me? Like physical?" Her voice grew higher in pitch. "But I—I'm this weird—"

"Stop it," Rachel interjected calmly. "You aren't weird. You can't help how you feel." A smile quirked her lips. "And I, for one, am flattered that the beautiful, illustrious Head Cheerio Quinn Fabray—"

"Cut it out," Quinn muttered in embarrassment.

Rachel laughed, charmed by the blush she could elicit. "Come here, sweetheart."

Quinn flinched. She rubbed her hands together then met Rachel's eyes with a pained expression. "Can you maybe…not call me that anymore?" At Rachel's perplexed and a touch wounded expression, she elaborated. "It's just…it kind of…"

"Does it make you uncomfortable? Given—everything?" Rachel inquired, voice strangled with impending sorrow.

Hurt was the word Quinn was going for, but discomfort sounded like the safer option. She already had egg on her face for confessing her love to someone she knew in a million years would never reciprocate, there was no need to add insult to injury by admitting that every time Rachel called her sweetheart she felt a pang in her chest.

Rachel attempted an encouraging smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She had called Quinn sweetheart for as long as she had known her. She couldn't quite well _blame_ Quinn for having feelings for her, but it was unnerving to talk boundaries within a friendship that, up until this point, had none.

But perhaps that was where Rachel had gone wrong. She was too affectionate by nature, and truly the only person in Quinn's life throughout her formative years who showed her an ounce of kindness, let alone affection.

And as Robin had pointed out, it made sense, then, that Quinn would latch on to that, foster that—in her teenaged hormonal brain—into some form of romantic love.

Long story short, Rachel concluded, it was a phase. Something that would pass, because Quinn was beautiful and likely the most popular girl in school. Rachel doubted she had trouble finding suitors.

Quinn's feelings for her, however genuine, were fleeting.

They would pass.

And then she and Quinn could continue with their friendship as usual.

Mind made up, Rachel reached forward and pulled Quinn into a tight hug. "It will take practice," she admitted. "But I'll absolutely stop calling you that, Quinn. I want you to be comfortable around me, okay?"

Quinn chuckled once, darkly. "Sure." They pulled back and Rachel clasped Quinn's hand, holding it in her own.

Quinn surveyed the display of attention with a wry quirk of her lips. She felt Rachel tense.

"Is this making you uncomfor—"

"I don't know what I was thinking," Quinn mused to herself. Then she locked eyes with Rachel. "It's not like you're at all gay."

Rachel gasped out an incredulous laugh. Her eyes softened, almost in regret. "Oh, Quinn."

* * *

"And _then_ she had the nerve to say I'm not a lesbian! Are you kidding me!? The Kinsey Scale couldn't measure my gay," Rachel shrieked over the loud music with a wild gesture of her hand.

It had rolled around to Saturday night again, and Frannie had dragged a moping Rachel out of their apartment to an apartment party two rows over. Two hours later and Rachel was drunk, on the couch next to some guy whose name she couldn't remember, but he was a great listener.

"Hey—hey, I'm sorry," she slurred. "What's your name again?"

He had impeccable posture, and turned slightly to engage her. "Mike, Mike Chang. We, uh, we actually took Movement III together." Initially, Rachel divulging to him all of her life's secrets regarding her sexuality had been a little weird, but he had assumed she at least knew who he was. Now that it was obvious she didn't, however, found Mike frowning down at her.

"Oh, _Mike_. Mike, Mike, Mike," Rachel repeated over again. "Hey! We were in Movement III together! You're a terrific dancer. Much more advanced than Movement III."

Mike rolled his eyes, though laughed good-naturedly. "I had to take a semester off. I'm supposed to be in Movement IV."

"Okay, so anyway," Rachel continued, having grown bored of Mike already. "I mean, _okay_, I technically shouldn't call myself gay if I'm going to sleep with a man," she conceded with a thoughtful frown. "But-but how dare-how _dare_ she imply that I'm not attracted to women?"

"_Who_?" Mike asked, because at that point he just needed to _know_. He would rectify this situation himself if she just told him who it was that was so surely misinformed.

Rachel lifted her finger, a name on the tip of her tongue. Then she stopped. A hiccup bubbled in her throat and the brief spasm bought her brain some time to catch up with the rest of her. In a moment of sobriety, all of Rachel's thoughts came to a halt. "Nothing."

She began to stand and Mike followed her unsteady movements. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rachel assured. "Just—water."

The pair traveled to the kitchen with Mike's sure grip in the bend of her arm. Rachel leaned back against the counter while he prepared her a glass of water.

Her thoughts, once uniform and organized, had splintered completely in her state of intoxication. So much so that every thought of Quinn that was once neatly stacked in its own folder now littered every corner of Rachel's brain. What Quinn looked like, what she sounded like, how she looked when she was happy, sad, irate, how adorable she looked when she was ten, and how pretty she looks now. And, curiously, Rachel wondered what she'd look like once she got older.

"Hey."

Muscles delayed, Rachel jerked back a second too late. But luckily it was only Mike with the promised glass of water. She accepted it graciously and went to town.

Amused, Mike watched her down the entire glass accompanied by audible gulping sounds. He folded his arms across his chest and shuffled to her side to lean back against the counter as well. "So what in the world was all that about?" he hedged.

Rachel gargled down another sip then came up from air. There was a water mustache on her upper lip that she licked away before glancing over at Mike. "I'm sorry, what?"

He pointed in the direction of the living room and thumping music. "Everything you said in there?"

Suspicious, Rachel lowered the glass to the countertop and turned to fully face Mike. "What did I say exactly?"

"That some girl said you were straight and she doesn't know the first thing about how gay you are, and—"

Rachel buried her face in her hands with a groan. "I did _not_," she muttered, completely mortified.

Mike laughed. "So who is this mystery girl?"

Face beet red, Rachel lifted her gaze just enough to gauge his reaction. In her inebriation, he looked like a friend. "I can't believe I told you any of that." She burrowed into her hands again.

"No, it's totally fine," Mike waved off. "I was gonna ask you who she was so I could go up to her and tell her that you're gay."

"I'm not—" She blushed anew. "I'm not a lesbian. I just—_prefer_ women."

"I'll be sure she gets the message."

"Mike!" Rachel shrieked before erupting into laughter.

"Oh, so you remember my name now!" He joined her, and when they had both quieted again, her hand was in his.

Rachel glanced down at his hand encasing hers, wondered when it had occurred, and briefly thought of holding Quinn's.

She wasn't sure when her hand got in his, but it felt like an entirely friendly gesture on her part, as did holding Quinn's, and her chest heaved with a relieved sigh.

Because that meant she wasn't attracted Mike, and by proxy, Quinn.

He smiled at her. "Let's dance!"

And she was pulled to the dance floor.

He was phenomenal. And in her inebriated state she could barely keep up. But Mike laughed after a few minutes and assured her she was doing fine. "A couple of my friends are thinking of putting a flash mob together. You should join."

Rachel's eyes sparkled at the offer. For some reason a flash mob just sounded like the answer.

* * *

They had spent the summer stumbling, but rebuilding their friendship as strong as ever. It felt to Rachel that every week Quinn was placing boundaries on their relationship, but Rachel couldn't fault her. After all, she still thought back to Robin who had said the main issue between her and Quinn was a lack of boundaries. So whatever Quinn wanted, Rachel did her best to supply. To date she wasn't allowed to call Quinn sweetheart or kiss her on the cheek as well as a host of other things that Rachel couldn't remember all at once.

They both agreed it was just easier that way.

But Rachel really missed her best friend.

Leaving for the new school year was as tough as it had always been, but Rachel found solace in the knowledge that this would be her final year. And afterward she could do what she wanted. She wasn't sure of what she wanted in any capacity anymore. But she was more than ready to discover.

The flash mob idea took flight with relative ease. Rachel joined Mike and his friends Tina, Artie, and another young man whose name she couldn't remember. Their acts ranged from dancing to singing to acting. A couple of weeks ago Rachel even got to perform a _Wicked_ monologue that she had been saving in her back pocket since she was nine. It was a lovely endeavor.

Gabriel was officially out of the picture, Quinn was more than happy to discover. And Rachel and Robin had managed to continue their friendship. But for Rachel, the icing on the cake of everything that had occurred since The Incident was Quinn finally visiting again.

She came up one weekend in early November before exams and, despite the difficulties the two had faced in the past, it was obvious to Rachel that the foundation of their friendship was still just as solid. And that was all she needed.

"I think I'm going to do prom queen this year," Quinn announced as she busied herself with her phone. She sat perched atop a stool by the island in the kitchen while Rachel stood a few feet away, methodically cutting vegetables for a stir fry. "Actually, I _know_ I'm going to do it."

"I was going to say so," Rachel laughed. "I know how you Fabrays are about your coveted tiaras."

Quinn smirked. "What's ours is ours."

"Clearly."

"I need to start a campaign really soon. And…maybe make a Facebook page," Quinn mused to herself. She had been giving it a lot of thought since she and Puck broke things off, and she was going to have to make a _major_ comeback because dumping the quarterback of the football team, while a highly discussed topic at McKinley, ultimately hurt her popularity. What was worse was that whoever Puck now brought to prom was yet another girl Quinn was going to have to compete with.

"So who is that boy?" Rachel suddenly asked.

Quinn looked over at her, a perplexed expression on her face. "What boy?"

"The Ken Doll you keep posing for Facebook pictures with," Rachel teased. She looked up in time to see Quinn blush and avert her eyes.

"It's only, like three," Quinn defended.

Rachel couldn't help but laugh. Oh, to be a teenager again. "I see," she murmured.

"Anyway, his name is Sam Evans. We're dating, and if we can last the year, he will be my date to the prom. Plus, it's statistically proven that couples who look alike are a lot more well-liked by others, which I'm hoping will translate to more votes. And he has surprisingly girlish lips for a boy."

Rachel gave pause, knife poised in the air. None of Quinn's talk of using Sam to secure prom queen surprised her. But the last of her statement did, both that she was...active again and that the girl thing was still a _thing_. "And how would you know that?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm old enough to make-out, Rachel, geez."

Rachel hummed then slowly went back to dicing. "Okay." She was not going anywhere near that subject today. She had gotten to know enough of Quinn's personal life over the summer.

"Why?"

A shrug. "I was only wondering."

Quinn bobbed her head though her eyes never strayed from Rachel. "So do you think you could ever have feelings for me?"

And in that moment it felt like Rachel's brain short-circuited. The fact that Quinn had reached the age of sexual maturity was already unfathomable. But the fact that that subject was being covered _and_ they were treading back into old waters just completely threw her for a loop.

Troubled and wholly distracted, Rachel drew the knife back down to slice another bit of celery when it sliced her finger instead. She jumped, more in shock than actual pain as a thin trail of blood began to dribble out of a small gash on her index finger just above her second knuckle.

Quinn was out of her stool before Rachel could even take a step back. "Holy shit!"

Rachel forced a smile to soothe the girl in front of her. "I'm all right." Her hand was grasped in the palms of Quinn's hands and wide hazel eyes alight with worry scanned her finger again and again in their own assessment.

"You're not all right," Quinn muttered in a shaky voice as she gingerly released Rachel's hand. "Stay here." Her posture was tight with nerves, and Rachel's heart sank. Quinn had always been protective of her ever since she surpassed Rachel in height. What she lacked in age, Quinn had always made up in authority.

And now was no different.

"Really, sweetheart—"

Quinn swiveled around at the doorway of the kitchen and only then, muddled with anxiety and fear, did Rachel see it—the pain Quinn felt every time Rachel called her that.

Tears sprang to Rachel's eyes unbidden, and she was once again rendered speechless by Quinn's feelings for her. "I'm sorry," was all she whispered.

Quinn just stood there. For a moment it looked as if she wanted to say something. Then she walked out of the kitchen.

Rachel reached for her stool and hopped atop it as she heard the medicine cabinet in the hallway bathroom open. Despite her stomach twisting in knots, she smiled at Quinn's need to control the situation.

Moments later, Quinn returned with plenty ointment, gauze, and two band-aids. "Quinn, really—"

Quinn shot Rachel a look that very clearly ordered her to stop resisting and just allow herself to be taken care of. Rachel quieted at the silent reprimand, and dropped her gaze from authoritative hazel eyes to watch the meticulous way in which Quinn cleaned and bandaged her wound.

Like Rachel had guessed, only one bandage was necessary, but she marveled most of all at how gentle and in control Quinn had been. Rachel had been so used to taking care of Quinn all of these years, the opposite had never occurred to her. She had never wondered if Quinn was going to have to dress a boo-boo for her, or console her through a rough time. That was always what Rachel did for Quinn, because she was the oldest, and Quinn the child.

She had never thought the roles could reverse, that they _would_.

"What's wrong?"

The question was asked rather sourly, and Rachel came back to her senses to find Quinn cleaning up the mess of blood-stained gauze and band-aid wrapper. Rachel glanced down at her finger, good as new. "Quinn," she breathed.

By the time Quinn turned around to throw everything away, Rachel's arms were wrapped around her torso from behind. She went rigid in surprise. "What's wrong?" Her posture eased in Rachel's arms when she felt her head rest against her shoulder blade. "Don't tell me it hurts that much," she attempted to joke to mask her own discomfort when she heard Rachel sniffle.

Rachel shook her head with a small laugh, more so at Quinn's ongoing discomfort with tears than at the joke. She wiped her eyes. "No, it's just. No one's ever—" Her voice sobered in sincerity. "Thank you, Quinn, really."

Quinn nodded and turned when Rachel released her. "You're welcome." Against her better judgment, her arms rose to wrap around Rachel's waist. Quinn tugged her closer into the embrace with a small sigh.

Rachel allowed her eyes to drift shut as she hugged Quinn tighter. It had been so long since she had been allowed to hug her friend this way, and she was reluctant to let in end, unsure of when she would get another shot.

After a moment, Quinn pulled away, avoiding eye contact. She made a show of stealing the cutting board on the island. "You just sit there. _I'll_ cut the celery."

Rachel threw her hands up, unwilling to argue that point. Quinn was amazing in the kitchen, much like her mother. But it was a little known fact of just _how much_ Quinn loved to cook. It was a quiet hobby, one of the things Quinn was shier about. But on the occasion that opportunities like this presented themselves, Rachel took it.

She sat back with the new gash in her finger, the new band-aid on her wound, closing her eyes serenely to the sound of Quinn chopping celery.


	3. Act III

**Title: **Tripping on Stepping Stones (Falling with Grace)

**Pairing: **Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. Just having a little fun.

**Summary: **5 years apart, Quinn, at 15, had already known Rachel for a very integral part of her life. So falling in love with her just made sense. If only for Rachel it was that easy.

* * *

Rachel and Frannie gradated in the spring wearing matching caps and gowns. It was a beautiful ceremony in which Rachel got to sing _Don't Rain on my Parade_ for what was probably the last time on a stage. She teared up on the last note, but her voice didn't falter.

Her fathers blubbered the entire time, and took enough photos to fill two albums.

When the ceremony was over, students and families were left to their own devices to find one another. Rachel spotted her fathers and ran toward them, only to find Quinn standing beside them and looking exceptionally beautiful. Mystified, Rachel's steps slowed, Quinn's name passing between her lips in a surprised breath as her fathers wrapped her up in a proud hug.

Quinn stood back from the family moment, but offered a small wave, and laughed when Rachel turned loose from her family and flew into her arms. "Hi there, graduate," Quinn whispered in brown curls before holding Rachel tighter.

Rachel shivered. "Hi, Quinn."

"Congratulations."

It occurred to her in that moment that Quinn should have been saying this to her sister, and Rachel pulled away. "Wait. What are you doing here with my fathers?"

Quinn shrugged with a grimace. "They're more normal than my family," she insisted, gesturing toward Rachel's fathers.

"That won't work," LeRoy lamented as he fretted over the sea of people beginning to walk toward their cars. "It'll take us an hour to get out of here."

Hiram's eyes danced with the promise of an idea. "New plan: I'm going to fake an epileptic seizure."

"Not this again!"

Rachel chuckled and turned back around to the slightly appalled expression on Quinn's face. "Normal, you say?" She resisted the urge to reach out and hold Quinn's hand in comfort. It had been months since Quinn had begun her list of dos and don'ts to help their friendship run more smoothly in light of her feelings, and Rachel had largely, grudgingly, adjusted. Though there were still moments like these when all she wanted to do was be close to her friend. Instead, she offered an encouraging smile. "I know your sister would like to see you."

Quinn folded her arms across her chest. Her eyebrow flicked upward. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Never," Rachel promised. "But I do think it imperative that you congratulate your sister on such a joyous day as one's gradu—"

Quinn groaned. "I get it."

Rachel frowned in indignation, and attempted to swat at Quinn with her newly acquired diploma.

"Hey!" Quinn yelped as she managed to spin away at the last minute.

"There was a time when you listened to what I had to say," Rachel accused with a pout.

Quinn's eyes flicked from Rachel's mouth to her eyes. She grinned. "When I met you, you weren't nearly as long winded."

Rachel rolled her eyes with a smile. "Hush, you."

"Quinn!"

Quinn whipped around to find Frannie walking toward her with her hands in the air as if to say _what the hell_. Quinn didn't bother explaining as she strolled to her sister and gave her a congratulatory hug.

"Congratulations!" Quinn attempted to greet merrily.

Frannie pulled away with a sour frown. "You leave me alone to receive mom and dad as the welcome wagon? Low blow, Q."

"Sorry," Quinn grumbled as they walked back toward their parents. She cast one last glance at Rachel with a half-smile and a small wave.

* * *

With no prior work experience and a degree in theater, Rachel couldn't find anything in Lima in her field. The closest she came to the stage was becoming the theater director at Lima Academy, a private school in the upper west side of Lima.

She sat in the middle of the front row of the auditorium with a sigh. She never thought she'd be a teacher. Then again she never imagined she'd be anything other than a Broadway star.

Her eyes became misty, and she began to fill out her new employee paperwork when warm hands from seemingly out of nowhere covered her eyes. Rachel jumped as she was engulfed by darkness. "Guess who," the intruder husked against her ear.

Only this wasn't an intruder, and Rachel did her best to steady her breathing as the hair on the back of her neck stood in end. "Quinn," she breathed, instinct overriding her uneasiness to alert her to the fact that this was her best friend without a doubt.

Quinn's breath hitched at the sound of Rachel's voice. She had never heard her sound quite like this before. Her stomach somersaulted, eyes slipping shut. "Yeah?" she whispered shakily.

Rachel stopped breathing. How they had managed to cross this line in a matter of seconds was beyond her. Then again, perhaps this had been a long time coming. She exhaled a slow breath then reached up to grab the hands covering her eyes.

She pulled them away then blinked at the stage in front of her, then she turned to find Quinn righting herself behind her. She had her hands clasped behind her back with a nervous smile that bordered on a grimace. "Quinn," Rachel greeted as she stood. She swiveled around and placed a knee in the burgundy seat cushion in an attempt to be closer. "That wasn't very nice."

"Surprise?" Quinn prompted in a dry voice. Her cheeks felt warm as she unclasped her hands from behind her back to present a bouquet of pink flowers. She shoved them toward Rachel with a stiff tone of, "I just—these are for you."

Despite the presentation, Rachel's face glowed as she accepted the flowers with giant brown eyes. She gingerly rubbed at the petals of each flower before shyly meeting Quinn's gaze through her eyelashes. "What are these for?"

Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet, the kind of tone she usually took on when her vocal chords would literally restrict with pent up emotion, and Quinn felt her chest swell a little in pride. "For getting the job," she answered with newfound confidence. She braced herself for impact—because there were times when Rachel just _could not_ resist—and nearly had the wind knocked out of her when Rachel slammed into her body.

Rachel's arms tightened around Quinn's neck as her eyes closed, the barrier of being separated by a chair hardly a barrier at all. "Thank you, Quinn," she whispered.

Quinn focused on breathing. She forced a shaky smile when Rachel pulled away and gestured around them. "So this is your domain, huh?"

Rachel sighed wistfully, but maintained enthusiasm. "It is." She gestured toward the stage then shot Quinn a befuddled look. "Why did neither you nor Frannie attend this school? From what I hear, it's the best of the best."

Quinn's lips thinned. "I can't speak for Frannie, but a lot of my classmates from middle school went here, and…I didn't really want to, so…"

Rachel nodded when Quinn trailed off, filling in the rest. Where she had found she related to Quinn the most when they were younger was the fact that Quinn hadn't really fit in at school, and neither did Rachel. "I'm thinking of diving right into Shakespeare," she then said, changing the subject completely. "So next year I can really up the ante and knock it out of the park."

Quinn laughed. "Wow, you've only just been offered the job and you've already got the next four years planned out. They couldn't have picked a better woman for the job."

Rachel smiled sheepishly. "What can I say? I'm ambitious."

She frowned as soon as the words left her mouth. She wasn't ambitious, far from it. She had lost her ambition when she turned eighteen. This wasn't ambition. This was settling, and an increasing part of herself was becoming aware of the fact.

Quinn mashed her lips together at the sight of the pensive expression on Rachel's face. Quinn had always been amazing at reading people, and over the last few years, the only time Rachel would get such a sullen expression on her face was when they would discuss the stage, which granted, wasn't often. It was a subject Quinn was nervous to broach, having picked up on the fact that Rachel's dreams had crashed and burned quite some time ago. She rocked on her heels with her hands behind her back, and said, "This is…kind of close to the real thing, right?"

And Rachel looked up then, meeting such stark sincerity in hazel eyes, the kind that always made her want to cry. "I suppose it will have to do."

* * *

"Quinn?"

Quinn peeked her head out of her bedroom to see her older sister down the hallway. She was still growing accustomed to having her Frannie back, especially with the lack of living space in their new home. "What?"

They now lived in a one story house, Judy and Quinn, and now a newly graduated Frannie. It had no upstairs, no downstairs, no central heat, and no dishwasher—the latter to Quinn's utter dismay.

It was sad to say that these were the only drastic changes to the divorce. Her father had come home before nine o'clock less and less over the past several months, and incurred even more frequent flier miles. Quinn had grown accustomed to his absence a while ago, and had felt no great loss when the divorce was finalized.

Frannie walked backwards down the hallway toward the door. "Follow me."

Barefoot, Quinn walked on her tiptoes across the cold floor in pursuit of her sister. "Seriously, Frannie. I just wanna watch TV."

"Shh," Frannie soothed in a coaxing voice. As older sister, she had never lost her ability to gain Quinn's interest with relative ease. She pivoted to press down on the door handle and opened the screen door to step outside. "Just follow me."

She heard an annoyed grunt behind her, but still managed to lead Quinn to her car. Once inside, Frannie reached for the glove compartment while Quinn fiddled with the seat belt. "Where are we going?"

Frannie slapped something square in her chest. "Nowhere."

Quinn glanced down at what was poking her in the chest, and waited for her eyes to regain focus behind her contacts. Disoriented, she mumbled, "Is that a condom?"

Frannie nodded, at least happy her sister knew that much, and tossed it into Quinn's lap. "I want you to take that."

From Frannie to the condom in her lap to the condom_s_ in Frannie's lap, Quinn's brow lowered. "What the hell is happening?"

Frannie shrugged. "This is a conversation that I wanted dad to have with you some day. But since he's gone and you're probably reaching sexual maturity at a grossly alarming rate that I don't even want to fathom because you're my little sister—_I_ have to have this talk with you."

"You don't," Quinn replied tightly, reaching behind her for the door handle. "I'm fine."

Frannie turned to face Quinn more fully with a slouch in her posture that rivaled the rigidity of Quinn's. "Sure, every girl says that until they're on their back spreading it for the quarterback."

Aghast, Quinn's jaw dropped. "Have you been talking to Rachel?" she shrieked.

Wincing at her tone, Frannie reached for her ears. "What are you _talking_ about?" she groaned.

Quinn's mouth clacked shut. She attempted to ease back into her seat. "Nothing."

A sigh as Frannie attempted to recover, "Look, I'm gonna tell you like one of the senior Cheerios my freshman year told me. You're _going_ to have sex."

Quinn's eyes bulged out of her head. "Frannie—"

Frannie held up a hand to keep Quinn from talking. "It's statistically inevitable. Our future as the human race essentially relies on you and billions of girls like you procreating."

Quinn averted her eyes. "I don't know if I'm comfortable with this anymore."

"So with that in mind," Frannie continued, "I wanted to give you these." She gestured toward the multitude of condoms in her lap, and Quinn didn't bother looking. "Just because you're ready for sex doesn't mean you're ready for babies. Know the difference, and use a condom until you are ready, Quinn."

Quinn fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. Lower lip trapped between her teeth, she stared at the square packaging of the condom. "I—Puck and I almost had sex," she finally whispered in shame.

"I know."

Her gaze whipped to Frannie, jaw clenching. "So Rachel _did_ tell you?"

"I asked. And no, she didn't tell me, but I've known Rachel since like, freshman year. I can tell when she's lying," Frannie clarified, sensing her sister's growing ire. "She didn't tell me, Q. She's just painfully transparent sometimes."

Quinn nodded and looked away. Her hands began to fidget once more. "Did she, umm, did she tell you anything else?"

Frannie shook her head with pinched eyebrows. "Like what?"

"Nothing."

Frannie stared at her for a long moment. "Look, senior prom is practically right around the corner and I just want you to be safe, okay?"

Quinn nodded. "Okay." Overwhelmed, she glanced to the condom in her lap then the condoms in Frannie's lap then up to Frannie's face before her gaze skirted away again. "It's just…this wasn't discussed in celibacy club, you know?"

Frannie chuckled, and Quinn's shoulders eased at the sound. "Would kind of defeat the purpose, yeah?"

She shrugged. "I guess so."

They sat in the car for a long moment, neither of them saying anything. After two minutes of silence, Frannie bit the corner of her lip in thought. "Hey."

Quinn looked over at her.

"Wanna go for some ice cream?" Frannie suggested. "I know I haven't really been around much at all, but…you can talk to me about stuff, Quinn. You know that, right?"

The candid moment robbed Quinn of speech, and she could only nod as the engine started and they peeled off down the street.

* * *

The condoms burned a hole in Quinn's metaphorical pocket, and she wasn't more than a few months into her senior year.

It was more of a mild curiosity than anything. Celibacy club had taught her that sex led to unwanted teen pregnancy one hundred percent of the time. And not only had Frannie told her different, but she had provided Quinn with a means of _not_ getting pregnant. She carried them around with her everywhere and felt so much like _Rachel_ of all people, because if anyone would carry around a condom at all times of the day so she would never be caught unawares, it was—

Quinn flushed hotly at the thought of Rachel actually _being_ _ready_ for sex at a moment's notice.

Her vision suddenly swam with fingers snapping in front of her, and Quinn jerked back to find Sam staring at her as if she was one of those…Chewbacca things. "What?"

Sam rolled his eyes with exaggeration. "This is _really_ interesting stuff, you know."

Quinn begged to differ.

Sam kind of jerked his head to the side to get his bangs out of his eyes, and he was so much like a girl sometimes, it was unnerving. "Okay, so let's try this again. Ewoks are…?"

Quinn swiped her phone from the bed and reclined into a lying position as she attempted to remember. "Umm…the cute little robot thing?"

It was senior year, and though Quinn would have thought she'd be dating the quarterback by now, if not Rachel, Sam was a good substitute. What he lacked in status on the football field, he made up in being a genuinely good guy—who tried no less than Puck to get into her pants, but she appreciated the fact that he at least never tried to get her drunk first.

Sam's face fell. "Come _on_, Quinn, that's R2-D2!"

"I don't know!" Quinn defended with a huff.

He was also a giant nerd, even by Quinn's standards of her not-so-distant past. He was really into sci-fi, which was a realm that her popularity and general interests just would not allow her to follow him into. But these things were important to Sam, and prom was important to Quinn. And if she just pretended to like these things for a few more months, then that crown would be hers.

But _Star Wars_ in particular was such a steep learning curve.

Sam sighed obnoxiously before plopping down on the bed beside her. "Who are you texting anyway?"

"Rachel," Quinn murmured.

Sam frowned. It was all Quinn ever did anymore. He scooted closer to her on the bed. "Maybe we could watch a little Star Wars. You never got through _Empire Strikes Back_, you know."

Quinn groaned and dropped her phone to the side to fully face Sam. He rarely got her attention nowadays unless it was prom related, and judging from the puppy dog expression on his face, he was beginning to feel neglected. "We could watch Star Wars, _or_…" Quinn intoned with a noticeable husk to her voice as she scooted that much closer, "we can do something _else_ instead."

The grin on his face threatened to crack his girly lips, then Quinn lunged forward for control.

It was still something she was learning to master, her feminine wiles. If she couldn't have Rachel, power was one hell of a substitute, and nothing got her going quite like making a boy squirm.

Twenty minutes, and a light graze across her breast before Quinn moved his hand to a more respectable place, and Sam had forgotten all about Star Wars. Quinn tightened her ponytail while briefly being reminded of Rachel catching her with a sloppy pony at Puck's house that one time. She had been a mess that day, or month, really. Or perhaps maybe her whole life. Quinn was no longer sure.

"Okay." She smoothed down her Cheerios skirt. "Prom."

Sam grinned, eyebrows wiggling. "Or rather, prom _night_."

Quinn laughed despite herself. "_Just_ prom," she insisted. It was a rather unfortunate circumstance, because she liked Sam a lot. He was just as into his looks like the other meatheaded athletes, but his love of Star Wars, Avatar, and all things nerdy really did give him depth that Quinn hadn't been expecting.

She reached over and ruffled his hair with a fond smile before returning to business. "I made a Facebook page over the weekend that I really need to go over with you before I launch it. And I think it's time we really solidify our standing with the band geeks and the av club. The band geeks we arguably have something in common with, because of our 'shared love of music', but the av club is where we're really going to have to stretch to find some common ground." Quinn bit the corner of her lip. She got her strategizing abilities from Rachel, and it never showed more than in moments like this. "I've got the Cheerios and you've got the basketball team," she murmured to herself then sucked her teeth before muttering, "Puck's probably got the football team…"

Sam just stared at her for a long moment as his earlier arousal wore off. He took in her rigid posture and the fact that she was miles away from this current moment in his bedroom with a frown. "So, like, are you gay?"

Quinn felt like she had been burned, and recoiled at the question. "What do you _mean_?" she snarled.

* * *

"He said I never act _that into him_. What is he, a girl?"

Rachel drew a calming sip of her tea as she watched Quinn fidget under the weight of her gaze. She sat with her legs curled underneath her on the couch while Quinn sat with her spine ram-rod straight and her feet firmly planted on the ground as if at any sign of this conversation not going her way, she was going to bolt. "Okay, that wasn't—right," Quinn quietly admitted after a tense moment.

Rachel tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She was steadily growing out the ombre in an attempt to be taken at least a bit seriously by the rugrats she was trying to turn into stars. It wasn't easy considering Rachel was, at most, eight years older than them. The most they saw her as, on a good day, was an older sister, and a hot, slightly older teacher on the worst.

She idly wondered which category Quinn would place her in, then mentally chastised herself for even _thinking_ that.

She resisted the urge to reach out and stroke Quinn's hair or pull her into a comforting hug and tell her everything was going to be okay—because Quinn wasn't a child anymore. And it had never felt more apparent to her than in this moment. Whether Rachel wanted her to or not, Quinn was going to continue to grow and mature, and the sooner Rachel got on board instead of trying to impede the process, the smoother it would go.

"Are you—are you gay, Quinn?" she asked after lingering silence, because yeah, this would be a strenuous conversation for her to have with the child she used to babysit, but above all else Rachel loved Quinn. And the last thing she wanted was to see much a morose expression marring her face.

Quinn's breath hitched at the question. No one had ever given her a choice before. Granted, she had read enough rhetoric to know sexuality wasn't a choice, but no one had ever supplied her with the option of being a lesbian.

Her shoulders hunched over as her eyes watered, and before she knew it, she was crying.

This time Rachel didn't resist the urge in wrapping her in a hug. Her eyes clenched shut. "You know…" she began in a reedy voice. "You—you aren't alone, Quinn." And then suddenly Rachel felt like crying because the only people she had told this to, while sober, aside from her fathers was Robin. Sweet Robin who could have been the first of many things for Rachel had she not have rightfully concluded with such minimal interaction that Rachel was a closet case at the time.

But now she was stroking her best friend's hair and shushing her sobs, and confessing that for the better part of her life, Rachel Berry had been quite the lady enthusiast.

She felt Quinn's entire body soften in her arms at the confession, and sag against her for comfort.

* * *

Rachel poured another packet of SoyGo into her coffee and stirred before grabbing the mug and sinking back into couch of Robin's cozy apartment. She had moved off campus for her senior year at Ohio State, and had amazing décor. Rachel had voiced as much at least three times within the past half hour. It was extremely neat in a clinical way, but with a borderline hippie vibe that showed in the furniture…and marijuana paraphernalia.

She had been promising to visit for quite some time, but between working and attempting to revive the flash mob since the boy whose name Rachel had never quite gotten the hang of moved to California to pursue his dreams of becoming a backup dancer, Rachel just never had the time.

Robin settled beside her on the couch with her own mug of tea. "So, how's life?"

Rachel stiffened at the question. The offering of a warm beverage, the couch, the loaded, open-ended preliminary question—"Oh, my _gosh_—are you trying to psychoanalyze me right now?"

"W-what? No!" Robin sputtered as she reared back in shock.

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Robin—"

Robin laughed. "I'm not a monster, Rachel, _geez_."

The steely glare on Rachel's face that even Quinn would have been proud of continued until she finally broke out into a giggle, and murmured, "Good," before settling back into the couch. "And I don't know. I mean, I have my own apartment now, which is good."

Robin nodded along, much like a therapist. "That is good."

"And I'm working at this really prestigious high school with all kinds of snooty, uppity adolescents who don't take me seriously." Her bottom lip poked out. "Sometimes I just—" She fashioned her hand into a gun and pointed it at her head before dying dramatically.

Robin laughed. "You know, you may be on to something with this whole acting thing."

Rachel made a show of bowing. "But they're just such…such _ne'er-do-wells._"

"There's something you don't hear every day."

"Most of them hate running lines, or breathing an iota of life into the characters they're portraying."

"What show are you putting on anyway?"

Dark eyes seemed to shine at the question. "_MacBeth_."

"Ambitious," Robin congratulated, and suddenly there was that word again.

"Quite," Rachel griped, thinking of the cast she had to work with. "But enough about me." She poked at Robin. "Tell me about you. How's this place now that I'm gone? How are classes? How's dating?"

"It's a lot quieter around here, that's for sure," Robin quipped, and Rachel rolled her eyes. "Classes are great. And dating's okay. I met this girl named Erin and we're…taking it slow, seeing where it goes."

Rachel practically had hearts in her eyes, and she sighed. "That must feel amazing. Seems like forever since I've even been on a date."

"Wait like, how long?"

Rachel glanced down at her fingers. "A year? Year and a half?"

Robin's eyes widened. "A year and a _half_? What are you, a nun?"

"I know, okay!" She winced, then added, "I just—no one's available."

"Come _on_, I know there have to be some suitable bachelors in Lima. Hell, even bachelorettes."

Rachel shrugged, shifting on the couch. "I suppose I just haven't had the time."

Robin threw her hands up. "Then what in the world do you spend your time doing?"

She took some time to consider the question. Her days were spent working, enjoying her newly acquired treadmill, and cooking dinner for a ravenous teenager who blew through her apartment nearly every day with a vengeful hunger after Cheerios practice. "The usual," Rachel chirped in a pitchy voice.

The truth was she had little interest in dating. She was content with the status of her life at the moment, and Quinn provided more than enough company; she always had.

Still… "I do get the itch," Rachel admitted after a moment.

Robin's eyes squinted as she asked. "Do you scratch it?"

"I—"

"Better yet, do you get someone else to scratch it for you?"

Rachel groaned at the answer that was about to leave her mouth. "No." She bit her lip self-consciously. "But like, sex isn't the most important thing in the world, right?"

Robin shot her a blank stare. "Hey, wait a few more months and Quinn will do it for you."

A splatter of coffee met Robin's coffee table, and Rachel covered her mouth. With wide eyes, she met Robin's. "_How could you even insinuate_—"

"Stranger things have happened," Robin cut in.

"But she's just a—" Rachel came up short. After the heartfelt conversation regarding sexuality she and Quinn had just a few weeks ago, and after all of Quinn's stammered prodding questions, one thing had become apparent to Rachel that night: that Quinn was no longer the child Rachel kept making her out to be. She wasn't _grown_ yet—legally, anyway—but she was _growing_, and it was high time she acknowledged that.

Robin watched her carefully. "The lady doth protest too much?"

Rachel's eyes narrowed at the joke. "We aren't _doing_ Hamlet. I just—" She sighed. "Robin, help me out here." Gesticulating with her hands, she ordered, "Psychoanalyze me."

"You just yelled at me about _not_ psychoanalyzing you, and now you want me to?"

"I just—" She swallowed. "Things are getting…kind of weird between Quinn and I? Not like, on _her_ end," she rushed out before Robin could reply. "But like…on _my_ end."

"So you're attracted to her," Robin guessed, and a strangled sound lodged itself in Rachel's throat.

"_No_," Rachel answered defensively. "I'm not attracted to a minor." The frown on her face deepened. "But I—sometimes I just—I don't know. I get the feeling she and I are just _meant_ for each other, in a way that exceeds my comprehension."

"Whoa." Robin stared at her with owlish eyes. "Deep."

The corners of Rachel's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Are you high?"

"Probably," Robin admitted.

Rachel outright laughed. "Robin, help me out here," she pleaded.

Robin shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you other than to wait until she's eighteen then jump her bones."

"Robin!"

* * *

Quinn sighed tiredly as she let herself into Rachel's apartment. "Rachel?"

Her keys and Cheerios bag landed with an audible thump on the floor and she trudged through the hallway. "Rachel?"

There was a telltale sign of gears grinding against gears, like machinery, and Quinn was unsurprised to walk into Rachel's room to find her running on her newly acquired treadmill. She had splurged on it last week at a yard sale, and hadn't looked back since.

Quinn's eyebrow flicked up in mild amusement as she settled against the doorframe and watched Rachel in silence.

It didn't take long for Rachel's sixth sense to kick in, and she glanced out the corner of her eye in suspicion to find Quinn's casual form standing in the doorway. She almost doubled over in surprise. "Q-Quinn!"

Quinn surged forward on instinct, and Rachel held a hand up to signify she was okay. She ripped an earplug out of her ear, ponytail whipping against her shoulder blades as she tried to keep up with her treadmill while scrambling to smash the off button. Quinn bit back a laugh at the sight of it. Rachel was such a _dork_ sometimes. "Sorry," she apologized lamely once Rachel was on solid ground again.

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel panted. "_Please_ announce your presence when I'm on the treadmill. I almost had a heart attack." She ignored the smug amusement painting Quinn's face and stalked past her toward the hallway. "And how are you on this fine day, besides insufferable?"

At that, Quinn outright laughed. Rachel couldn't help but crack a smile at the sound. "I'm okay."

Rachel grabbed a towel and headed toward the bathroom. "Judging by your mood, I'd say you're fantastic."

"We'll talk after your shower," Quinn suggested and Rachel flashed a grateful smile before closing the door.

They had developed a bit of a routine. Quinn would let herself in after Cheerios or glee practice and, depending on how busy her day was going, Rachel would either be done with her treadmill routine, or in the middle of running once Quinn arrived.

It was the only form of stability Quinn had in her life. Her parents were divorced, and when her mother wasn't busy holding a secretarial job to help pay for their house, she was drinking and playing bridge with her friends. Quinn hadn't seen her father since Frannie's graduation, and Frannie was spending Chet's money taking trips to see him nearly every weekend. She was in the process of finalizing plans to move to Massachusetts to be with him, leaving Quinn alone once more.

Rachel, as she had always been, was a source of comfort for Quinn, away from the social pressures of school, and attempting to figure her family out. Rachel was just Rachel. She didn't expect anything from Quinn other than Quinn always trying her best at everything. Quinn often likened Rachel to her own personal cheerleader, which would occasionally lead to very embarrassing though no less stimulating thoughts of Rachel in her Cheerios uniform.

"Are you hungry?"

Quinn's head popped up and swiveled to find Rachel walking into the kitchen in a pair of shorts and a tank top, cleaning water out of her ear with the pink towel draped across her shoulders. Her gaze dipped to survey Rachel's tank top before meeting her eyes.

Rachel was wearing a bra.

Quinn's forehead pinched in annoyance. It was a very recent development. One that Quinn supposed was to keep from complicating things, especially in lieu of Rachel's most recent confession of being bisexual. But the very knowledge that the barrier existed felt like more red tape on their friendship.

And that was the last thing they needed.

"A little," Quinn admitted, following Rachel with her eyes.

Rachel grinned at Quinn's response—she was always hungry—and dug into the refrigerator in search of vegetables for a quick stir fry.

Quinn's fingers thrummed against the island in the kitchen as she bit her lip. Leaning forward in her seat, she said, barely above a whisper, "You always say you _can't_." Rachel's sexuality had been on Quinn's mind a lot lately, and right now all she wanted to do was test the waters.

Rachel paused. She pulled her head out of the fridge to stand up straight and face Quinn. "Beg pardon?"

Quinn's expression grew sour. She was growing sick of embarrassingly having to repeat herself. Her fingers curled on the smooth marble of the island, failing to find purchase as she concentrated on making sure her voice didn't crack. "You always say you _can't_…have feelings for me," she added, voice breaking toward the end.

Rachel felt her heart rate begin to pick up speed. She broke eye contact with Quinn for a brief moment as she attempted to foresee the ending of this conversation. "…Yes," she eventually answered, meeting Quinn's gaze head on.

Her throat constricted from receiving such unwavering attention from Rachel's dark eyes, and Quinn cleared her throat before soldiering forward. "But…you like women," she posited, and felt her heart thump against her chest when Rachel gave a barely there nod. "So, essentially, you _can_ like me eventually. If I were older."

Rachel inhaled a shaky breath. "I'm saying…I can't. Right now."

Her words hung heavily between them, and Quinn's eyebrows bunched. Rachel just continued to stare at her from across the kitchen. And when her throat bobbed with a tight swallow, Quinn tracked the action, understanding dawning on her. "But you…you _could_," she hedged in a light voice.

Despite the situation, Rachel cracked a fond smile at the dash of hope sprawled on Quinn's face.

She waved her finger at Quinn and turned away toward the fridge. "Bear in mind that I haven't and shan't think of you that way, Quinn Fabray." She turned to Quinn just before reaching for the bag of carrots. "And you shouldn't want me to either."

Quinn stepped down from the stool she was resting on. "But I do."

"I know. But there are six months between now and your eighteenth birthday, and I'm sure there will be plenty girls and boys in between who will snag your attention. Not to mention that—"

"Eighteenth birthday," Quinn cut in. She rounded on Rachel as she was leaning in to grab yet another vegetable. Quinn yanked her up by the arm and closed the refrigerator door to lessen the distance between them.

"Quinn Fabray, what have I told you about man-handling me?" Rachel demanded with a huff. "I am not one of your ill-behaved Cheerios."

Quinn cracked a smile and apologized. "When I turn eighteen?" There were bigger fish to fry and Rachel was playing coy.

"What about it?"

"Don't toy with me." Quinn briefly broke eye contact. "When I turn eighteen, you'll want to be with me?"

Rachel smiled gently up at Quinn. She couldn't deny that face. "Anything is possible, Quinn. After all, you'd be an adult by then."

Her chin jutted out smugly. "Damn right."

Rachel made a show of rolling her eyes. "This isn't me promising anything. This is merely me suggesting…let's give this some more time. And six months' time if you still want, we'll revisit this."

"Merely," Quinn mocked, a lop-sided grin on her face.

"Merely," Rachel challenged back.

Quinn glanced away, as if in disbelief of what she just heard. She actually had a shot. Confidence restored, she rounded on Rachel again with a sure smile. She batted her eyes twice, excruciatingly slowly as her eyelashes kissed her cheekbones. "Is this code for admitting you want me?" she asked in a raspy voice, lips pursing at the end of the question.

Rachel froze at the sound of it. She felt goose bumps break out along her skin, eyes narrowing as she took a step back. "Umm—"

Quinn's eyes widened. She stumbled back a step. "Shit, sorry!" She was still a novice, and had read the situation completely wrong.

"What was that?" Rachel demanded in a loud voice with wide, concerned eyes.

"Nothing! Sorry—just…ignore that!"

"That was sexy, not seventeen year old!"

Quinn looked completely stricken with fear at the accusation. "Please don't tell my mom!"

Taken aback, Rachel just stared upward to the young woman Quinn was becoming. Rachel hadn't got to spend much time being taller than Quinn, but the time she spent, she had cherished. Then one day Quinn had shot up like a skyscraper. But despite her height, she had still always remained the moody, introverted, book worm kid Rachel had met that day on the couch eight years ago.

Until very recently.

And that fact couldn't have picked a worse time to become apparent to Rachel.

Because Quinn was now a young woman, a young woman who seemed to be adding the adjective _sexy_ to the list of things she wanted to be.

And Rachel wasn't having it. "Who taught you that?"

Quinn winced. "Look, it's not a big deal. Just—forget it happened, okay?"

She looked two shades shy of desperate, and Rachel's ire settled instantly. "Quinn, I'm not going to tell on you."

Dubious at best, Quinn asked, "Then why do you have to know who I got it from? Who says I got it from anybody?"

Like a concerned mother, Rachel placed her hand on her hips. And like a moody teenager, Quinn walked away from the rant that was sure to come.

And there were all kinds of words that lay on Rachel's tongue regarding Quinn being too young for seduction techniques, but—

She let it go.

Because Quinn wasn't a child anymore, and it was high time Rachel respected that.

* * *

Quinn turned eighteen that May, and Rachel would never forget that day.

She felt jittery throughout the whole birthday party with the knowledge that Quinn was now a woman.

And Quinn looked radiant. Rachel couldn't look away if she tried. She spent the whole party attached to Frannie's hip, afraid of what she'd do if she ventured away.

All the while Quinn kept close to her two closest friends who doubled as Cheerios, only breaking away when relatives approached her to exchange envelopes of money for hugs. Quinn would smile graciously and return to her friends.

But every few seconds their eyes would meet, and Rachel's breath would hitch in surprise at the overwhelming surge of emotion she felt.

"This is a _snooze_ fest," Frannie grumbled from beside Rachel.

Eyes filling with mirth, Rachel turned away from a heated match with Quinn to find her friend slumped on a lawn chair beside her. Frannie had moved to me with her boyfriend in Massachusetts months ago, and this was the first in quite some time that Rachel had seen her. "Not enjoying yourself?" she teased.

And Frannie shot Rachel a chilling glare that put her in the mind of Quinn. "I could be plastered somewhere right now."

"But it's eight p.m," Rachel felt the need to point out in bemusement.

Frannie's expression didn't falter. "I could be plastered somewhere right now."

Rachel laughed and nudged Frannie's arm. "Go say happy birthday to your sister."

"I already did!" she protested.

"Well, I didn't see you. Go say it again."

"You get your sick kicks out of watching us interact," Frannie accused hotly as she stood.

"You're both just so _cute_," Rachel gushed, knowing it would only annoy her more.

Frannie grumbled something under her breath. "Hey, Q!"

Across the lawn, Rachel watched the authoritative way Quinn put her hand out to halt the conversation she was in to address her sister. "What?"

Frannie motioned her closer. "Come over here!"

Sure that it was a trap, Quinn proceeded with caution that showed in the narrowing of her eyes. Her fingers fiddled with each other as she approached, and Rachel couldn't help but be charmed.

"What is it?"

They could have passed for twins, standing in front of each other in flowy sundresses and equally flowy hair.

"I wanted to wish you a happy birthday," Frannie informed her.

Quinn shot her sister an odd look. "Dementia kicking in already? You already have."

Frannie clucked her teeth, though she smiled at the jab. "Contain your enthusiasm. Rachel likes to watch us interact."

Quinn's eyes slid over to Rachel, no more than a foot away, with more than a little interest. "Does she?"

Rachel felt her blood run hot at the sound of Quinn's voice. It was unnerving how quickly her body was more than ready to respond to Quinn now that she had turned eighteen. She swallowed, and forced herself to look away.

"So happy birthday, Q." Frannie waited until she got Quinn's attention again. "No, but seriously. Eighteen's a good year."

Amusedly, Quinn was reminded of when Rachel said those words to her eight years ago. It was hard to believe she had known her for that long, that she had loved someone for that long.

"Kick ass at Yale, okay?"

Quinn winced at about the same time Rachel began to choke on nothing but air. She pitched forward in her seat in a fit of coughs.

Frannie and Quinn both lunged for her, but Rachel held up a halting hand of her own. "I'm fine. I'm fine." Her voice was strained, though she wasn't sure why.

"You sure?" Frannie hedged, eying her cautiously. "There's a bottle of scotch in the cellar that'll fix that right up."

At that, Rachel laughed. Though it was forced and she did everything in her power to keep from looking at Quinn. "Actually, I think water would suffice."

She moved to stand, but Frannie placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll get it."

Quinn gave a start. "No, I can."

Frannie shot Quinn a crooked smile. "What is this, a competition?"

Quinn clammed up at the question.

Attempting to deflect, Rachel glanced between the two. "Well, someone has to stay with me."

Quinn relented and stiffly sat in Frannie's seat. "You can go. I'll stay."

Frannie nodded and took off across the lawn.

Back straight against the chair, Quinn hardly looked in Rachel's direction.

When it became obvious she was going to have to broach the topic, Rachel sighed. "Yale, huh?"

Quinn swallowed. "I can stay—"

"Absolutely not. Do not even finish that sentence, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn quieted again, frustrated and guilty.

Rachel slowly released a breath. After eight years, she could read Quinn like a book. She took a second to calm her own anxieties then turned to Quinn with a genuine, if sad, smile. "I couldn't be prouder of you," she said in a soft, warm voice.

Like a disarmed bomb, Quinn's posture loosened. She rubbed self-consciously at the back of her neck. "I was going to tell you."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't have time!" Quinn hissed. "I've only known for a week. And I—it's all the way in Connecticut, and I didn't know how to break that to you."

Rachel's gaze fell away to nothing in particular. She felt a dull ache in her heart that she just knew was going to nag her for the rest of the day. "I see."

"Rachel, please don't be mad."

"I'm far from mad, Quinn."

"Please don't be hurt then."

When Rachel neglected to respond, Quinn looked over at her. And in all the time she had known Rachel, their age difference had never felt this minuscule. It was always a factor that Rachel had made sure to throw in her face every day for the past eight years. But now that she was eighteen, now that she was sitting in a lawn chair, discussing her collegiate future with the woman she had loved since she was ten years old with glasses, Quinn, for once, didn't feel inferior.

She rose out of her seat as Frannie began to carry two glasses of water across the lawn, and grabbed Rachel's hand. "Come here."

Rachel stopped breathing. Anxiety, curiosity, and excitement all swirled in the pit of her stomach as she stood to her full height to come face to face with Quinn. She was completely unsure of what Quinn would do, and her uncharacteristically rigid posture showed. But then Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel's shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug, and tears sprang to Rachel's eyes. It wasn't fair how Quinn could always do this to her.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispered into her hair. She held Rachel tighter and whispered it again.

Rachel caught sight of Frannie approaching from her peripheral. Her eyes slipped shut as she allowed herself this one indulgence in three years—the chance to be as unrestrained in her affection with her best friend as she wanted. Her arms wrapped so tightly around Quinn's torso, Rachel briefly worried she'd bruise. She turned her head slightly to burrow into Quinn's neck for a moment before she pulled away.

"Hey! Who started the hug fest? Let me guess—Rachel," Frannie jeered.

Rachel feigned offense as she accepted the glass of water. "I'll have you know that _Quinn_ happened to initiate that one."

Frannie laughed, peering over at Quinn in surprise. "What? You're handing out hugs today, Q?"

Quinn clasped her hands behind her back and shrugged a shoulder. "It's my birthday. I do what I want."

The party ended soon after, and Frannie left to reunite with a few members of her former Cheerio squad at a bar. She had invited Rachel, but the last thing Rachel wanted to see on what had already been an emotional day was the people who had tormented her through high school.

Instead she and Quinn sat on the swing chair in the backyard of Quinn's new home, shoulder to shoulder with a wall of unsaid words between them.

And for once, Rachel didn't know how to start. Things were all so different now. Quinn was a woman who would be attending Yale in the fall. She was no longer a child, and thus, this was all unfamiliar territory for Rachel. Quinn had always been a bit of a learning curve, but this was something new entirely.

"You didn't tell me you had applied to Yale."

She attempted to keep her tone from sounding accusatory, but felt she failed miserably.

Quinn just stared at her lap. "I—sorry. With everything that was happening with SATs, and prom, and you're always so busy and stressed out about work—there just never seemed like a right time to tell you. I—" She bit her bottom lip in anxiety. "I had _just_ gotten you to tell me I may at least have a shot and I felt _good_ for a change. I didn't want all of that to get shot to hell because of Yale."

Rachel turned then. She curled a leg onto the swing, and her knee settled warmly on Quinn's thigh. And for the first time since hearing the news, Rachel smiled. "Quinn, I've told you since you were fifteen and confessed your love for me that nothing can change how I feel about you. It was true then and it's true now."

"But what about Yale?"

"We'll...we'll figure it out," Rachel answered. "But it's still your birthday, and I don't want anything to put a damper on that."

At the mention of her birthday, Quinn adopted an owlish expression that was equal parts intrigue and anxiety. "It is my birthday," she confirmed in a rush, spine straightening.

"It is."

"And…I'm eighteen."

Rachel chuckled with a playful roll of her eyes, already knowing where this was headed. "You are."

"And you said when I turn eighteen—"

"I remember," she interrupted gently. Her arm came to rest along the back of the swing unassumingly, as she attempted to ignore the nervous butterflies in her stomach. "Do _you_ remember what I said?"

Quinn swallowed. _That_ was definitely a move. And in her high school career she had experienced plenty of moves being made for her benefit, but none of them made her stomach somersault quite like this. "I remember," she murmured.

"And?"

"And…I-I want it."

The fact that she was tongue-tied wasn't lost on Rachel who kept a keen eye on Quinn for any sign that this wasn't what she wanted. Still, she internally patted herself on the back because there had been a time when she couldn't woo a woman this way. "What do you want?"

Quinn rolled her shoulders back. This was supposed to be the moment where Rachel stopped seeing her as a child and started seeing her as an adult, an equal, a partner. And she couldn't very well be taken seriously if she was reduced to a shy, bumbling mess. With effort, she forced herself to meet Rachel's eyes fully. She had the smoky look going for her again, and it never failed to get Quinn's gears going. And her lips shined with the faint hint of lip gloss that Quinn had wanted to taste for the past three years. "I want you to kiss me," she breathed.

Rachel exhaled, all false bravado leaving at once. She hadn't expected Quinn to go through with this. The thought of possibly having to kiss Quinn on her birthday had certainly occurred to her, but Rachel was sure Quinn would back out of it, that her feelings would change, or that, eventually she would stop seeing Rachel as old_er_ and just plain old.

But as she stared into Quinn's eyes while the swing gently rocked them back and forth, all Rachel saw was interest, intrigue, and desire. The third made her stomach tighten in a way she had never expected. "Are you sure?" she asked in a choked voice.

Quinn didn't have moves, not for a girl. Her moves had been reserved for nabbing popular boys, not for kissing the love of her life. So she had nothing to draw on to entice Rachel into a kiss other than the longing set deep in her eyes. "Yes."

And it was enough. Rachel glanced around the backyard to assure they were alone, and leaned forward to cup the side of Quinn's face. She drew close enough to the point where they could feel each other's body heat, and she watched Quinn's eyes flutter as her fingers combed through her hair soothingly. "Last chance," Rachel whispered.

It was more of a warning than anything, but when Quinn's eyes opened again, shades darker than the hazel Rachel was used to, she knew the warning fell on deaf ears. She felt her heart pound in her chest the way a first kiss hadn't done for her in quite some time now. Maybe it was the warm night, or the threat of Quinn's mother—tucked into bed, watching a game show—seeing them in such a compromising position that got her heart pumping the way it did.

But Rachel knew she couldn't lie to herself any longer, that Quinn just _did_ things to her that were beyond her comprehension.

And so Rachel kissed her. She kissed her because she had spent way too long denying Quinn something she wanted so desperately. She kissed her because she had inadvertently hurt Quinn more times than she cared to count and she wanted it to stop. She kissed her because her stomach was in knots for reasons other than anxiety. Rachel kissed her because she wanted to.

And Quinn was helpless. Never one to be a slave to her emotions, Quinn felt she had been pulled into a tidal wave. It crashed on top of her, and she sank deep into waters uncharted. Everything felt so soft, Rachel's lips, the knee she was resting her hand on, the hand cupping the side of her face. Nothing had ever felt quite like this.

She attempted to come up for air every few seconds, but questing lips would find her own, and Quinn was pushed under once more. Her lips slid over Rachel's with ease that belied a first kiss. They fell into an unshakable rhythm of bobbing heads and breathy moans.

Her entire body thrummed in a tempo Quinn had never felt before. If this was the sexual awakening Quinn witnessed everyone have in high school, she now understood why they couldn't stop talking about it. There was a fire in the pit of her stomach that only seemed to intensify as each agonizing second ticked on.

Rachel forced herself not to think. Because if she thought, she would have been surprised, scared, kicking herself for time wasted. Except not wasted because Quinn had been a child. Her thoughts were a garbled mess that continued to tangle in the back of her mind. No, Rachel operated on instinct. She was usually good with following her gut. And right now, her gut told her that what was happening right now in this moment didn't need to stop. Her hand slid around to the back of Quinn's neck and it was warm, lively underneath her palm. She used the leverage to hold Quinn steady, and—

Rachel moaned, body sagging with a longing sigh when a confident tongue swiped across her bottom lip. It seemed Quinn had beat her to the punch. And Rachel was more than willing to allow it. She allowed Quinn to explore her at great length before Rachel placed a parting kiss to her lips and pulled away.

She knew it was only her imagination, but it felt colder outside now that they weren't joined at the lips, in their own haze of arousal. A breeze blew past them and Rachel allowed the chilled air to rush across her face for a moment of clarity. She ran a hand through her hair as she gathered her wits about her, clearing her throat. But she was affectionate by nature, and couldn't help but play in Quinn's hair as she asked. "How do you feel?"

Quinn huffed out a laugh, deciding not to go with the first two-syllable word on the tip of her tongue. "I feel fine—great," she amended. "You?"

"You know," Rachel began, still toying with silky strands of blonde hair. "For someone who said she hasn't kissed a lot of boys, you're a pretty great kisser."

"I never said I hadn't _kissed_ a lot of boys. Just that I hadn't had many boyfriends."

Rachel grinned cheekily. "You modern day woman, you."

Quinn scoffed. "Hardly."

"Is this something you think you can keep doing?"

"Is this something you think _you_ can keep doing?" Quinn parroted. "You already know where I stand."

Rachel inclined her head as if to say touché. She released Quinn's hair and sighed, meeting her eyes. "I…liked this very much," she admitted, a touch shy. "And I would not be opposed to exploring this further."

"Even though I'm a kid?" Quinn griped.

Rachel at least had the good grace to look ashamed. She bit the corner of her lip. "I admit your age, or should I say, our age difference is going to take getting used to. But if you're willing, so am I."

Quinn nodded dumbly, her mouth taking several seconds to catch up. "I'm willing," she insisted. She was so willing.

And although she did go on to win prom queen, it somehow paled in comparison.

* * *

Rachel giggled when Quinn shoved her into the wall, and moaned when their lips fused together. It had only been two weeks, but Rachel had never known a time in her life when her lips had gotten this much action. She shivered when Quinn's hands found purchase on her hips, and wrapped her arms round Quinn's neck for leverage.

She never thought she'd be here. She never thought she'd feel this way about Quinn, and she tried not to take a trip back down memory lane, back to when they first met, in fear that she'd get too weirded out to continue.

Instead Rachel seized Quinn by the scruff of her neck and nipped at her lower lip. Quinn moaned, grasping at Rachel's waist and tugging her closer.

She was a very adept kisser, to Rachel's surprise. In fact, Rachel had never met a pair of lips that knew what they were doing quite like Quinn's. If this was Quinn attempting to prove she was no longer a child, it was working in spades. Rachel was so caught up in Quinn's lips that a hand creeping up her rib cage didn't even register until a thumb brushed the underside of her breast.

Rachel pulled back with a delighted grin and a lively flush to her cheeks.

"What?" Quinn grumbled, pressing her warm cheek against Rachel's in a concerted effort to avoid eye contact.

Rachel allowed Quinn her space, but couldn't help but ask. "Are you still a virgin, Quinn?"

Pointed ears burned in embarrassment as Quinn's posture tightened. She really hated Rachel's direct approach at times. The question wasn't accusatory in tone, but it felt critical.

But damn it if Rachel didn't know her like a _Funny Girl_ playbill. Her hands went to work massaging the tense muscles in Quinn's back until Quinn was arching into her and choking back a moan. "Yes," she eventually answered.

Rachel licked her lips. She liked that answer and she wasn't sure why. "Okay." She attempted to deliver her next few words with as much tact as possible. "I am not."

Quinn pulled away to finally meet Rachel's eyes. She nodded a few times, more so to herself, then muttered, "Okay. So…"

"So I was thinking," Rachel picked up, dark eyes roving along Quinn's face for any sign of how to steer this conversation. Quinn was eighteen, but oftentimes _teen_ was the operative word. She was moody and unpredictable; and though Rachel typically knew how to best handle Quinn given a particular scenario, this was uncharted territory. This was the two of them talking about sex—which was already a topic they rarely broached with each other, especially after the Noah Puckerman incident. This was the discussion of sex with each other. There was no precedence, but Rachel navigated the best she could. "Maybe we should set some ground rules? I am aware of how important virginity is to you, and I think, given the circumstance, a prudent approach is the best approach."

Quinn bit her bottom lip and looked away. Rachel swallowed at the sight of it. "Okay." Quinn cleared her throat. "Umm, so what now?"

Twenty minutes later, they had untangled, Rachel had made a pot of tea, and the two of them were on her couch discussing ground rules.

What amazed Rachel the most, and got her heart racing, was that Quinn didn't have any. Granted, Rachel _had_ called Quinn when Quinn was in the middle of almost sex. But that was only one time and, Rachel was saddened to learn on the way home, Quinn had been under the influence. But this was still the former president of the celibacy club and chastity ball attendant on her living room couch basically giving Rachel the go-ahead on nearly everything barring oral and penetration.

Her cheeks were red and she cleared her throat on every other word, but Quinn eventually stammered out something resembling, "All-all the other stuff we can do. Just—not _that_."

"That being penetration."

"_Rachel_," Quinn bit out, flushing all over again.

Bottom lip between her teeth to hold back a smile, Rachel tried again. "Sorry, I'm just trying to ensure we're going into this on the same page is all."

"We are," Quinn grumbled.

Rachel scooted along the couch to be closer to Quinn. "Lovely." She rested her arm along the back of the couch with a tilt of her head. "Care to try again?"

A wolfish grin spreading across her features, Quinn had Rachel pinned to the couch within moments.

* * *

"I don't _have_ to go to Yale."

Rachel turned, slowly, from her vanity to lock eyes with Quinn. Only Quinn wasn't looking at her. She was staring down at the adult bedspread on Rachel's bed. It was light pink and gray—a far cry from the gaudy highlighter pink bed sheets Rachel had slept on through college.

Inhaling a deep breath, Rachel attempted to keep her voice even. "What do you mean?"

A shrug, and in a nervous habit Quinn had picked up from Rachel, she tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "I said I can stay," Quinn repeated, gathering enough courage to meet Rachel's eyes. "If I had met a promising enough boy by now, I would have given up on college anyway. It's what my parents would have wanted."

"Sweetheart," Rachel breathed.

"I would've," Quinn insisted. "And he and I—we would have gotten married, I would have had a baby, and I would have been a homemaker, like my mom."

"But—"

"I would have done it. And I wouldn't be nearly as happy as I am with you." Her cheeks dusted pink, and Quinn glanced away with a frown of embarrassment.

Rachel neared the bed, sensing Quinn's rising anxiety. She sat down in front of her with the most perplexed expression on her face. Rachel was no stranger to giving up on dreams, but giving up on a dream that was basically being handed to her on a silver platter was something else entirely. It was something she had never known. She grasped Quinn's hands from where they were fidgeting with one another and met her eyes with a kind smile. "Quinn, you don't have to _be_ like your mom," she insisted, beseeched. "Tell me, what would you go to Yale for?"

At that, Quinn grew shy. The tips of her ears burned, and she stared down at their joined hands. "I don't know. Like, maybe acting or something."

"_Acting_?" She was flummoxed. How could she possibly have known Quinn for eight years without knowing they shared such a pertinent common interest? Despite the situation at hand, a proud smile blossomed across Rachel's face. "You want to be an actress, Quinn?"

Quinn shrugged with a nod. She had never revealed to Rachel that the moment she fell in love with acting was when she was spying on Frannie one day way back when she was ten years old and saw Rachel performing a monologue from _West Side Story_. Even her reputation wouldn't be able to shake the dirt that would be smeared on it by joining the drama club, so college had seemed like the next best option.

Rachel felt completely consumed with emotion. Nothing got her going quite like acting or even _talking_ about it. She cupped Quinn's cheek with both hands and forced their gazes to meet. Rachel kissed her softly. "I really, really think you should go to Yale."

"But—"

Rachel kissed her again.

Quinn glared daggers at her once she pulled away. "That's my job."

"What?"

"Kissing you to get you to shut up."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "Okay, is that a thing? Because I've been very suspicious over the last few days, but I assuaged my worries and said to myself, 'There's no way Quinn, _my_ Quinn would—"

Quinn kissed her.

And Rachel couldn't find it in herself to be angry.

* * *

"I'm _freaking_ the _freak_ out here!"

"_You do realize I'm not a real psychologist, right?"_

Rachel sighed heavily into her empty apartment. "Robin—Robin, I'm coming to you as my friend."

The line was silent for a moment, the desperate sound of Rachel's voice seeming to reverberate off the walls. _"Okay,"_ Robin finally spoke, calmly. _"What's going on?"_

"What's going on is that I'm in love with my best friend, and she's in love with me, and she—she's being _so_ young and so-so careless in a way I never would have even _thought_ her to be, and throwing away her future just so she can be with me, and I cannot allow it."

"_Whoa, whoa, okay—slow down."_

"Sorry," Rachel kind of whimpered into the phone as she paced the floor of her apartment.

"_Okay, so what exactly is going on here?"_

It was the kind of sentence that one had to stop breathing for. "Quinn got accepted into Yale."

"_Holy crap, that's really awesome_._"_ Robin sounded genuinely enthused on Quinn's behalf, which made Rachel feel a little guilty. She had spent the past several weeks, since learning about Quinn's acceptance, trying to figure out the logistics of how this was going to work. She couldn't even remember if she had even congratulated Quinn yet. _"So what's the problem?"_ Robin then asked as the silence stretched on.

Rachel collapsed against her sofa with a sigh. "The problem is that Quinn has decided that she's going to stay in Lima, Ohio to be with me instead of attending college in the fall."

"_Oh…"_ Robin was silent for a moment. _"That's…that's really not—"_

"Practical?" Rachel nearly shrieked. "I know."

"_Have you tried to—"_

"_Everything!_ I've tried everything." She gnawed on her lower lip mercilessly. "But she's convinced herself that she'd have no problem following in her mother's footsteps and abandoning college to settle down."

It scared Rachel more than anything because she had come to a bit of a conclusion over the past week since Quinn had made her decision not to attend Yale: she more or less hated her life. And it took Quinn admitting to her that she was more than willing to stay in Lima, Ohio with Rachel forever for Rachel to realize it.

She was more or less stuck being a two-bit actress in community plays for the geriatric, and she had accepted that about herself. But that would not, _could not_ be Quinn's future. That, above anything else, would break Rachel's heart beyond repair. Quinn was too ambitious to settle down in her prime, and spend the rest of her life unhappy and career-less.

Her chest heaved with deep breaths once she finished ranting her dilemma to Robin, who had remained quiet except for the occasional "hmms".

"I can't let her do this, Robin," Rachel murmured mournfully. "She gets this despondent look on her face sometimes, more so now that her parents are divorced, and I can't bear to look at such a sad face for the rest of my life. This isn't what she wants."

"_It sounds like you've already made up your mind."_

Rachel sank into her couch with her head in her hand.

* * *

"Do you believe in soul mates?"

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

Rachel grinned and rolled onto her stomach. The blades of grass underneath tickled the soft skin of her stomach through her dress, and only added to the thrum of excitement that coursed through her veins. She felt both on fire and incredibly at peace in a way that only performing and Quinn could do to her.

Their eyes met. "I just always feel so at peace with you. And I think you feel the same way with me."

Quinn's lips curved mildly, a touch shy. It felt like only yesterday Rachel was telling her they couldn't be and now she was suggesting that their very souls were connected in such an intimate way. It gave her whiplash, butterflies. "Yeah?" she croaked out.

And Rachel knew that tone, having heard it many times in varying timbres of emotion over the last eight years. Her smile grew as she molded herself against Quinn's side. She buried her face against Quinn's neck and murmured, "I love you," against her flesh before pressing a kiss deep into her skin.

She had never meant those three words more in her life.

Quinn rolled them over until she was on top, stared down at luscious brown hair framing a smiling face and eyes filled with blatant ardor. They kissed endlessly, neither remembering who had leaned in first.

* * *

They stumbled into the apartment and Quinn slammed the door behind her then reached out to tug Rachel closer. She was a forced to be reckoned with, Quinn. If her kisses were a torrential downpour, Rachel shuddered to think what making love to her would feel like. So when a shaky yet sure hand closed around her clothed breast, Rachel's body arched in plea for more, though she ripped her mouth away.

Her breath came in short pants. "Quinn. If we continue, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

A low chuckle slithered down to her groin as Quinn's warm breath met the side of her face. "It's cute that you thought we were."

Rachel hissed out a surprised breath because _when_ did Quinn get this sexy? It had completely slid past her.

There was no room for polite, or chivalry, or courteousness, because Rachel _wanted_ in the worst way possible, and every second that passed by with her clothes still stitched to her skin was too long.

So when Quinn grasped her by the waist and pinned her harder against the door until she was up on the tips of her toes like the ballerina she once was, Rachel moaned, and hooked a leg around the back of Quinn's ankle. The muscles in her thigh strained from holding up her weight, and Rachel shivered at the feel of Quinn's long fingers stroking up and down her tights.

Brain growing foggier by the second, there was still a crisp, ever-present enclave within her that screamed at her to stop. Almost violently, Rachel ripped away from Quinn again, being able to only retreat a few centimeters with the door behind her. "Sweetheart…" Her voice sounded raw with unabashed want, even to her own ears, and she felt Quinn tremble around her at the sound. "We need to talk."

Instantly, she was lowered to the ground, and after untangling limbs, Quinn and Rachel found themselves on the opposite sides of Rachel's living room couch. The distance, however minuscule, was unbearable, and Rachel nearly tripped over herself to scoot that much closer and clasp Quinn's hand in hers.

A full minute went by in silence and false starts. Quinn's posture tightened with every ticking second that passed while Rachel tried her damnedest to say something of substance.

Then a choked sob bubbled in her throat, and her hand that was holding Quinn's retreated to cover her mouth. Quinn looked up at her then, the reddening of her cheeks, the tears brimming in her eyes. "I _love_ you," Rachel finally sobbed.

Though her instincts pulled at her to retreat, regroup, and re_think_, Quinn scooted closer to the only source of warmth she had ever known. "I love you, too," she mumbled, uncertainty as to just what this was edging into her tone. It was the first time Quinn had said it in three years, and it broke Rachel's heart.

She fanned at her eyes with both hands to try to stop the tears from flowing because this was about _Quinn_, not her. And after making Quinn's original love confession all about her what seemed like many moons ago, Rachel owed her this much. "I love you, so very much, Quinn," she prefaced. "But we can't be together. Not now."

"Why?" Quinn bit out in rebellion that only a teenager could muster.

Rachel's face crumbled at the sound, but the clarity of Quinn's voice awakened something within her. "Because you're _young_, Quinn," Rachel retorted, knowing she was stepping on toes but unwilling to sugarcoat anything anymore. "And you lack the necessary foresight to see that five, ten years from now you will regret not going to Yale."

Her voice was so even and controlled, that it unnerved Rachel when Quinn asked, "Is that what this is about?" in a seemingly calm tone. "Me not going to Yale?"

Rachel nodded hurriedly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's not every day that people get to go to the college of their dreams," she said, melancholy striking her features. "Take it from me. I would have _killed_ to be able to afford NYADA—probably literally," she attempted to joke.

It fell flat as Quinn stared at her and with a voice devoid of emotion, said, "I'm not you, Rachel."

"Yes, I know but—"

She gasped when Quinn sprang from the couch with clenched fists and a striking vein bulging in the middle of her forehead. She was the picture of beauty, even in anger, and her ferocity threatened to take Rachel's breath away. "_No!_ You don't get to spend the past few weeks being with me only to tell me that you're breaking up with me and shipping me to Connecticut because it's for my own good!"

"It _is_ for your own good!" Rachel cried. She rose from the couch to gain what little height she could. Despondent, Rachel couldn't handle. But anger, she could do. Quinn was often hotheaded and Rachel had talked her down from plenty of ledges over the past eight years. "You don't understand the ramifications of forsaking college, Quinn. You're too young to!"

"I already have a mom, Rachel!" Quinn shouted back. "I don't need you to be my mother; I need you to be my girlfriend!"

"And I need you to _grow up_!"

It was out of her mouth before she even had the chance to think. That was often how she operated. But not with Quinn, not anymore. She had learned to think before speaking and acting because that was what Quinn appreciated.

But her brain had failed her in this instance. Or perhaps it was her mouth.

She saw Quinn's lip quiver once, and Rachel felt her heart break. "Quinn…"

Quinn sharply held up a hand, then swiped her keys from the couch and bypassed Rachel. "Don't worry about it."

It was a curt mumble that shattered Rachel from the inside out. She couldn't _handle_ despondent. She turned on her heel. "Quinn—"

She reached for her arm and Quinn jerked away, turning back to Rachel with eyes that blazed in seething anger and thinly veiled agony. "I _said_ don't worry about it."

"I'm _sorry_," Rachel lamented, voice teetering on a whine. "Please just—let's talk about this."

"What is there to talk about, Rachel?" Quinn inquired rhetorically. "You wanted to break up, and we did. So like I said, don't worry about it."

"But, Quinn, please, I'm sorry. I just—"

"You knew how I've felt about you since I was fifteen years old, Rachel. _Fifteen_."

She winced at the icy tone that dug into her skull, into her heart and squeezed it mercilessly. She could do little more than whimper an apologetic, "I know, sweetheart."

A lone tear streaked down a pale cheek as Quinn's hands clenched and unclenched at her side, keys jingling. "You have strung me along for three years."

Rachel's eyes shot up to meet Quinn's. "No." She was bleary, and a bare arm swiped across tired brown eyes to collect tears. Rachel vigorously shook her head. "I have not led you on, Quinn. And if you feel that way, I'm sorry. But I in no way—"

Never in her life had she heard a door slam as loudly as this one.

* * *

Rachel sat folded in a corner of the couch, shrouded in the darkness of her apartment living room with tears streaking down her face.

After not speaking to her for a full month, Quinn had left for Yale today, Rachel heard from Frannie. An odd mix of pride and heartache roiled in the pit of her stomach.

She wrapped her arms around her ribs, grasping her dress so tightly she felt the material would rip. It was all she could do to keep from splintering into tiny pieces all over the floor. Her breaths came and went in short pants bordering on hyperventilation.

She hadn't moved in hours.

Bottom lip between her teeth, Rachel attempted to gather herself. But it was all just so unfair. They had barely even begun. After three years of dancing around the subject, they had finally joined as one, only to be ripped apart. And Rachel could handle the heartache of not being able to keep Quinn. What she couldn't handle was the fact that Quinn now wanted nothing to do with her.

She pitched forward onto the couch and lied against it, eyes slipping shut as more tears fell. Her feelings for Quinn had grown and evolved over the years, but at the base of it all, Rachel had loved her fiercely—as a guardian figure, as a friend and eventually, as a lover. She had always had the best intentions when it came to Quinn, but now it seemed she had made an irreparable mess of everything.

A hiccupped sob left her throat just as her phone rang in the pocket of her dress. Hoping beyond hope it was Quinn returning one of the hundreds of phone calls Rachel had made over the last several weeks, she unraveled to fumble for the device. It was Kurt, however, and Rachel slumped back against the couch, a disappointed sigh escaping her. She held it tightly in her grasp, but let it ring as she tucked her legs underneath her in the seat and folded in on herself again.

The vibration stopped, and she was once again left alone. Rachel thought of Frannie and cried anew. This was the second time she had hurt her baby sister, and Rachel shuddered to think of how much Frannie would hate her if she found out.

Her phone vibrated once more with a call from Kurt, and she swallowed. The last thing she needed was to hear that something had happened to one of her dear friends because she failed to answer her phone.

Answering the call, Rachel attempted to slow her hiccupping sobs. "Hello?"

"_Rachel! Girl, I called you twice!"_

Rachel winced at his tone. "Sorry, Kurt." She cleared her throat in an attempt to mask the nasal quality of her voice. "I'm actually quite busy right now, so if this can wait—"

"_It can't,"_ Kurt insisted.

She licked a tear from her upper lip. "What is it, Kurt? I really can't talk right now."

"_Famed director George Castell is reviving Grease on Broadway."_

Rachel's heart stopped at the revelation and the fact that Kurt was calling to tell her this. It couldn't be...

"_And yours truly, who has trouble hiding his gay—"_ He lightly mocked her and Mercedes "—_got the part of Zuko! Anyway, I talked you up to Castell, and I mean all the way up, and he agreed to see you. Though I think he wants to get in my pants, so he'll do just about anything I ask…"_

"Kurt," Rachel interrupted in a terse voice. Her heart, barely beating, had kick-started again and hammered painfully against her chest as she attempted to control her breathing. "Kurt, please," she begged. She was at the end of her rope, and wasn't sure how much more of anything she could take. "What are you saying?"

"_I'm saying get your butt here to New York,"_ he finally informed her. _"And you'd better give the best damn audition of your life."_


End file.
